Bitter
by chokolaj
Summary: Never hold a grudge. Sheppard and team get entangled in the collapse of a society ten thousand years in the making. Shep whump!
1. Prologue

**Title:** Bitter

**Author:** Chokolaj

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Drama/Angst/Action/Adventure

**Summary:** Never hold a grudge. Sheppard and team get entangled in the collapse of a society ten thousand years in the making. Shep whump!

**Disclaimer:** I don't even own a single damn chocolate bar right now so just go right ahead and try to sue me. (Now please don't take that literally!)

**Author's Notes: ** Wow, this fic went in a completely different direction than planned and I nearly gave up on it countless times. It may not be technically, medically, or Stargate Universe inaccurate, but, hey I'm only human, after all.

Special thanks to Titan5 for reviewing each chapter and giving me the support to finish this darn thing.

-------o-------

PROLOGUE

John Sheppard opened his eyes to a wall of green blades..._grass_, his mind supplied. Focusing his bleary vision, he observed a tiny little bug scurrying up one of the blades before it took flight into the sea of blue above him. It hurt his eyes to follow its track so he allowed his gaze to fall back upon the grass. A vague memory of pain erupting throughout his body clung to his consciousness briefly before flitting away as the bug had.

He observed his hand pressed firmly to the ground before him, really seeing it before feeling it. It was then he finally noticed he was lying on his stomach, his cheek pressed firmly to the slightly cool ground beneath him.

The little bug returned then, landing on the tip of his nose. Sheppard would have batted it away, but found himself too weak to do so. The green and white striped little bug, the size of a ladybug really, scurried with miniature legs across his skin, tickling each pore as it meandered about.

Every muscle in his body seemed to buzz in tempo with the insect. The soft ground beneath him lulled him; a gentle breeze ruffled his hair and the grass nearby. He felt content on lying here for an eternity. He was exhausted.

And his nose itched. The little bug crawled along the bridge of his nose, inspecting each of his pores as if looking for a new home to burrow into. The itching began to spread like tendrils across his nose, around his nostrils, lacing its way upward to his sinuses. Oh how he wanted to relieve that itch. But he couldn't even twitch a finger at the moment.

Where the hell was he anyway? How had he gotten here? Desperately scanning his memories, he struggled to pull up images and conversations to organize them into some kind of timeline. He remembered Atlantis...that was good. No apparent long-term memory loss, he confirmed. He remembered just this morning berating Rodney for eating the last supply of power bars. Short-term memory: intact.

Now the itch was so unbearable it became a demand for a sneeze. Sheppard's eyes began to water as he could do nothing more than be tortured by one very tiny little bug. It reminded him of McKay. Speaking of which…where was his team?

Grunting, Sheppard willed his uncooperative body to shift so he could lie on his back. The insect took the hint and flew off into the breeze. He was on the verge of that sneeze but it refused to come. Damn bug. He hated bugs.

After what seemed like an eternity of struggle, he finally accomplished his goal by rolling slowly onto his back. He gazed up into the nearly blinding sky of midday. Above him hovered a nearly full sphere of pale white off to the right accompanied by two much smaller spheres to its lower left. Three moons. Ok, so he wasn't on the mainland. Not even the same planet. His wandering gaze fell to the towering jungle of green swaying gently all around him. Was he still in the Pegasus Galaxy? He sure as hell hoped so. It seemed a lot of planets they visited in the past two years looked disturbingly alike.

He shifted his head ever so slightly to the left. He cleared his achingly dry throat, licked his chapped lips, and croaked out a pathetic call to his teammates.

"McKay?"

The twittering chatter of a flock of birds passing by overhead broke the otherwise serene stillness about him.

"Teyla? Ronon?"

A sudden breeze picked up, tossing the upper branches of the trees. The motion would have been soothing if it weren't for his suddenly racing heart. The beating pounded in his ears, above the whispering of the leaves. The breeze settled down just as suddenly as it had began and oddly enough, so did his heart. Where the hell was everyone?

He was alone, as far as he could determine. He finally realized that he was dressed in only his basic BDUs, sans the shirt. His thigh holster, along with his trusted 9 mil and P90 were missing. But not the knife concealed in his boot…he could still feel its reassuring presence against his ankle. A shiver passed through his body, starting from his chest and radiating outwards through his limbs. Not so much from the lack of a chill in the rather suffocating heat of this new place than from his unsettled nerves.

With extreme effort, he finally pulled himself upwards into a rather hunched over position, his legs bowed out before him and his arms resting upon them. His body was beginning to tell him stories of abuse. He felt like he had battled 20 Wraith. He smirked. If he was still in the here and now...hell, he must've won. That battle would have made a killing on pay-per-view. Tilting his neck from side to side, he heard little cracks and felt little twinges of pain accompany them.

As he took in more of his surroundings, he realized he was in an open clearing covered in a soft blanket of wavering grass. The grass was tall, nearly a foot in height. The jungle of trees surrounding him were spindly, with tufts of green sprouting only from the swaying tops high above him. He blinked still bleary eyes, focusing them to search the depths of the darkened jungle around him. No sign of his team. No sign of civilization for that matter. He couldn't shake a feeling of uneasiness. He was sitting prone in a sunny opening. An enemy could be easily ob­serving him from the shadows of the trees, ready to perhaps finish its job.

And suddenly, he felt odd. Tiny shimmering spots of light danced across his vision as a rush of blood roared through his ears. Shaking his head to rid of the discomfort, he came to realize that his lungs felt constricted, and if anything, his heart had begun to race even harder. It actually hurt, pounding with such ferocity that he felt it would surely burst.

His muscles began to tremor and he unwillingly collapsed back onto the soft surface of the grassy clearing. His vision faded and he blinked his eyes in a fight to stay conscious. His heart hammered. Beads of sweat rolled down his face from the exertion tolled upon his body. Panic threatened to overwhelm him.

And then eerie calm blanketed him. His heart began to slow. His breathing steadied. A flow of adrenaline washed through his veins, gifting him with renewed strength. He bolted upright, senses coming to such clarity and alertness it felt as though someone had tossed a bucket of ice-cold water over him. Something had happened to him. He was different somehow.

He narrowed his eyes and a devilish smile twisted upon his sweat-drenched face. Flitting along in the lazy breeze was that tiny little bug not twenty yards away in the shadows of the trees. The gentle buzzing of its wings resonated loudly in his ears, just as if the bug were mere inches from him. His hands curled into fists.

In a fleeting moment, he was racing through the underbrush with the stealth of a wild cat. Not a whisper on the wind announced his advance.

The pitch of the buzz dipped and heightened as the unsuspecting bug made its way from blade to blade of undergrowth. A shadow passed overhead. The buzzing ceased. SMACK! An unseen creature spooked from its perch in the trees above rustled further into the shadows.

Lowering his chin and grinning in victory, Sheppard gazed at the small mess of green and white remains now smeared across his palm. A shift in the wind caused him to drop his hands to his side, tilting an ear up to listen more intently. Footsteps splashing through water…he counted the beats and detected ten potential hostiles. They were far from his position but gaining ground fast. Sheppard whipped his head around to look back to the clearing from whence he had originated. It was time for a hasty retreat.

He had one final fleeting thought before his mind clouded into darkness…just what the hell had happened to him?

-------tbc-------


	2. Is This the Right Planet?

CHAPTER 1: Is this the right planet?

-------o-------

"These guys are the ultimate trade partners. Builders of ZedPMs and an added bonus…" McKay turned to look back at Ronon & Teyla seated behind him in the PuddleJumper. To say the scientist was giddy was an understatement. "The Heracs boost a healthy coffee and cocoa trade, or rather the rough botanical equivalent of such."

"We can hardly contain ourselves, Rodney." Sheppard replied, his voice drawled in sarcasm. He kept his eyes upon the HUD as he piloted the Jumper through the outer orbit of yet another unexplored planet. It was another one of those planets where the Stargate was situated in space.

During one of the slower periods on Atlantis, some of the scientists had uncovered a plethora of gate addresses to planets the Ancients dubbed as "advanced". McKay and Zelenka took over the discovery from there, working with Elizabeth to translate any information they could find on these planets and the people inhabiting them. One planet in particular had stood out amongst the rest. Situated on the far reaches of the Pegasus Galaxy, quite isolated from other solar systems, resided the planet Herac. It was a rather small planet, nothing special to note of its features except to say it contained only one continent, and a very small one at that: it was comparable in size to main island of Hawaii.

The thing that had captivated the three however was the documented relationship the people of Herac had with the Ancients. Elizabeth discovered that the planet's abundant resources were unique in such a way that it was the one source in the _entire galaxy_ for all the materials used to create a ZPM. Upon discovering this, the Ancients nurtured the rather simplistic Heracs along, supplying them with technology to better their way of life. In return for such gratuity, the Heracs manufactured the ZPMs, seemingly a never-ending supply to the Ancients.

McKay had nearly fallen off his chair at this discovery and proceeded to beg Elizabeth to allow them to go on a mission to Herac. Elizabeth was hesitant. The information in the database was at least ten thousand years old. Were the Heracs still around? Had the Wraith wiped out the civilization? Had the Heracs known the Ancients had retreated from Atlantis? Did they even produce ZPMs anymore? Whatever they would find, it was worth the look. There might even be a warehouse stocked full of unused ZPMs, for all they knew. Or at least McKay would have given all his chocolate to wage that there was.

So here the team was, circling the tiny marbled planet of white and blue, scanning the surface for the usual energy readings. Ronon was sprawled about in his chair, arms lazily draped upon the arms of his chair and looking rather bored. McKay was twitching in his seat in eager anticipation as he searched for energy readings on the HUD. Teyla was focused inwards, probably thinking of her people back on the mainland, in the midst of another harvest. Sheppard was calm and in control, flying with such ease he could have gone to the back of the Jumper for a quick sandwich and a nap and still maintain control over the spaceship.

The Jumper shifted slightly as Sheppard began to lower them into the planet's atmosphere. From the trajectory he had chosen, they would arrive above the continent within the next few minutes. To ensure their safety, and to follow protocol, Sheppard cloaked the Jumper. One could never be too careful.

"Unbelievable." McKay muttered and shook his head. All four leaned forward slightly, looking down upon a tiny green spec among the glittering sparkles of blue stretching from horizon to horizon. Of all the planets they had ever visited, this one took the prize for smallest land mass. It made it difficult to believe the database listed the local population at one million.

As they drew closer and the land mass began to consume most of their view out of the Jumper, they realized the entire continent was covered in a thick blanket of dark green trees. The climate readings on the HUD suggested the land mass was situated in a tropical zone. Not a cloud in the sky and plenty of misty haze hovering over the majority of the trees. Muggy and hot. Sheppard crinkled his nose, his mind briefly thinking of all the kinds of bugs that liked to inhabit jungles back on Earth. Most of them were rather large and scary.

The only impressive feature besides the occasional glimpse through the trees at shimmering rivers or lakes was a single mountain that rose four thousand feet from the sea of green into a blackened rocky tabletop protrusion. There was a mass of trees growing upon the surface and along the layers of exposed black rock. There were abrupt drop-offs along the entire circumference of the mountain and there appeared to be at least one switchback trail carved along one side. This mountain resided at the far western edge of the continent, with three sides surrounded by crashing waves of the ocean and blazing white sandy beaches that proceeded to encircle the entire continent.

As the Jumper drew closer, they finally saw evidence of civilization…or something close to it. At the Eastern tip of the tabletop mountain was a massive dome. From the distance, it appeared as a smoky glass globe cut in half and perched precariously at the edge of a tall cliff. For the view it offered, the structure was most likely an observatory of some kind. Other than this, there were no other visible structures, and still no energy readings. Little dots began appearing on the HUD's LSD, scattered sporadically around the landmass. There were even a few within the dome at the moment.

"Where do we land?" Ronon inquired, trying to see past McKay's constantly fidgeting mass. Sheppard raised an eyebrow at this question as he continued to visually scan the surface below them. True, there wasn't much of a flat surface for them to land. Even the beaches were thin and narrow and he didn't trust that the planet's tides were very forgiving. After all, there were three moons orbiting this planet.

"There." Teyla pointed towards the mountain. It took a keen eye to spot it. On the far western edge of the surface was a dip in the level of the trees revealing a small clearing.

Sheppard maneuvered the Jumper so that they could get a better view, lowering down to hover above the mountain. As they flew by the dome, they noted they could not see beyond its glassy surface. When they arrived above the clearing, they could see tendrils of green vines and shrubbery taking over a flat slab of ebony-colored stone. In some ways, its shape reminded them of Atlantis. Seeing as the Ancients had once been frequent visitors of the planet, this was more than likely a landing pad for Puddle Jumpers.

Minutes later, Sheppard had landed the Jumper upon the surface and the team was gearing up to head out. The Jumper remained cloaked. Even if the locals were familiar with Ancient technology, it _had_ been ten thousand years. Judging by the overgrowth of vegetation the team was betting there hadn't been too many visitors since.

As soon as the back of the Jumper opened, the team found themselves momentarily out of breath. Hot and humid had nothing on this planet. Sweat already began to bead on their foreheads. The blazing hot sun glared down at them as they emerged from the shade of the Jumper and into the clearing. As far as jungles went, this one was pretty ordinary at first impression, not unlike those found on Earth.

"Let's get this show on the road." Sheppard commented, adjusting his tack vest and tightening the clip attaching his P90 to his vest. "What do you have for energy readings, Rodney?"

McKay already had the detector in his hands and was making a sweep of the area in a wide circle. He slapped the side of the thing in frustration and took a few steps forward, in the general direction of the dome they had seen earlier. Even though it had been a large structure, they could not see it from their limited view above the trees surrounding them.

"Nothing. I got nothing." McKay fiddled with the detector for a moment while Ronon and Teyla took up points around the perimeter, silently scanning the shadows of the nearby jungle. Sheppard stepped up to McKay to view the screen of the detector for himself.

The heat was bearing down on them and the shade of the trees was enticing. Even in the few minutes they had been here, they were already tiring. Ronon took a swig from his canteen. Sheppard released an exasperated sigh.

"How can there be nothing, McKay? I thought you said these people were advanced. ZPM gods, even." Sheppard put his hands on his hips, staring the scientist down. His patience was already growing thin. The heat was unbearable, worse even than Afghanistan.

"Is this the right planet?" Ronon inquired. All three turned to McKay. The scientist's mouth dropped open in shock and his eyes widened.

"Oh! I get it. The genius must've dialed the wrong gate address, that's it! Of course." McKay threw his hands up in exasperation before turning his expression into a look of loathing.

"We all make mistakes Rodney." Teyla replied, doing her best to console him.

"Hmm. Now that'd be a first." Sheppard smirked. McKay stomped his foot and crossed his arms.

"I. Did. Not. Dial. The. Wrong. Address." McKay stated through clenched teeth. He looked each teammate in the eye before continuing. "I'd be careful with the insults. If it weren't for my aptitude for coming up with ingenious ways of saving your collective asses every time we run into trouble, you'd all be dead."

"And it's a wonder how we survive the other half of the time when you screw up." Sheppard retorted.

"Wh..wha…" Rodney stuttered before shaking his head in defeat. "We should head to the dome. Seeing as it's the only sign of civilization, it's our best bet for establishing contact with the locals. It'd be nice to finally meet someone with enough intelligence to engage in a decent conversation."

"And I was just starting to think you liked us. All right. Teyla you take point. Ronon, keep an eye on McKay and I'll take our six."

"Why do you always assume that I'll get into some kind of trouble?" McKay slapped his hands to his sides in exasperation.

Sheppard had turned away but shifted so he could allow McKay to see his expression of endearment.

"It's what you do best Rodney." With that, the colonel waited silently as a glaring McKay strode past him, Ronon taking up his six and Sheppard following shortly after. Teyla lead the way into the depths of the trees, her P90 raised and ready.

"I just don't understand." It was the fifth time the scientist had said it. Ronon growled. "Just go ahead and threaten me, Chewie. I don't mind keeping that supply of Snickers all to myself."

Ronon glanced back at Sheppard with an air of impatience. Sheppard caught his eye and smirked.

"Guys, guys. Let's save the threats for any uncooperative locals we may encounter, shall we?"

By now, the entire team was drenched in sweat, their faces red with the exertion of navigating the rocky terrain of the jungle. There was little shrubbery to hamper their efforts and pleasantly enough the spindly pale white trunks of the towering trees around them were few and far between. Aside from the few draping vines, there was an expansive space that was cooler than the air above the canopy of waxy leaves above them. So far, they hadn't seen any evidence of the coffee or cocoa trees this planet supposedly grew in abundance.

"I find it difficult to believe that a million people once inhabited this planet." Teyla announced, pausing in her advance through the trees. Sheppard noted the unease upon her face.

"Yeah, I was wondering that too." Sheppard replied, watching his footing carefully as he nearly tumbled on a few loose rocks – the same mineral as that of the black stone they had landed the Jumper on, he noted.

"Still _sure _this is the right planet?" Ronon dared to ask a second time. Because they were all beginning to seriously doubt this had been the home to a million people, the caffeine source of the universe, and the holy grail of ZPMs. It was all beginning to sound a little too good to be true.

Rodney emitted a shriek and stopped in his tracks. Teyla raised her P90, Ronon rushed forward, stunner at the ready, to stand at her side. Sheppard joined them and all four stopped to view a short, dark-skinned man robed in white from shoulder to bare toe. He was bald and wore a spear of white bone through the middle cleft of his nose. He stared at the newcomers, his mouth hung open in shock.

"Hi." Sheppard began but stopped short when the man took a step forward, continuing to gape at them.

"You are from the city of the Ancestors."

It wasn't even a question.

Sheppard exchanged weary looks with his team before stepping forward to greet the man formally.

"Ah, I guess that depends on who you are and why you think that. See, my friends and I happened to be passing by and wished to introduce our selves. I'm Lt. Colonel…."

"You came in a vessel from Atlantis."

Sheppard didn't continue. Again, his team exchanged weary looks. Was this guy psychic? In the Pegasus galaxy, anything was possible. The man's shocked expression transformed into one of inquisitiveness laced with pain.

"Why did you abandon us?"

Silence. Sheppard was almost sure he could hear the sweat from his nose splat onto the rough terrain at his feet. The man stood there, frozen in his quandary. The team was completely perplexed. Who was this man?

"Please, tell us who you are and how we may help you." Teyla was serene in her offering, yet her finger never left the trigger of her P90. They were all alert. Time and again they had learned to never let their guard down.

The man's seemingly harmless persona shifted as suddenly as the light breeze that began to flow down upon them. The breeze was cool and the man's face even colder.

"It does not matter now. We have managed quite well on our own."

He made to turn then, leaving them shrouded in mystery.

"Wait!" Sheppard took a step forward, lowering his weapon and raising a hand to show a gesture meaning no harm.

The man glanced back, his face stony, his mouth curled into a snarl. His eyes flashed with contempt.

"You will see."

The man retreated back into the depths of the trees, his form fading in the dimming light of the late afternoon.

Ronon motioned to begin tracking the man when Rodney lifted an arm up to block him. Ronon glanced down at the arm blocking his chest, then scowled at the owner of said arm.

"Are you crazy? Wait, don't answer that." He lowered his arm. "He could be leading us into a trap."

"He wasn't leading us anywhere, Rodney. He was leaving. Probably because of you." Sheppard supplied. He had completely lowered his weapon now, relaxing and trying to relish in the breeze that had picked up around them. Ronon and Teyla mimicked his actions. Teyla took a rather large swig from her canteen and rested the surface upon her brow momentarily. Her hair was getting stringy and frazzled in the mugginess. Ronon sat down upon a small boulder and proceeded to drink from his canteen as well.

"What are you guys doing?" Rodney was growing exasperated.

"Cool off before you faint on us." Sheppard ground out as he lowered down onto his haunches and unscrewed the cap of his canteen.

Beaten into submission, McKay placed the energy signature detector into his tack vest and fumbled into another pocket to retrieve a Power Bar.

"What flavor is that?" Ronon asked, glancing at the Power Bar hungrily out of the corner of his eye.

Rodney began to stuff the bar into his mouth at a faster pace than normal, mumbling a response that nobody could decipher. He discarded the wrapper in his pocket and wiped his hands together before proceeding to lean against the trunk of a nearby tree. He washed down the power bar with a swig from his canteen and eyed the trees around them, studying them as the team studied him.

"For the last time, there are enough power bars for this mission and the Daedelus is due back with a whole shipload of goodies in five days. Deal." McKay stated, his gaze never leaving the canopy above.

After five minutes of rest in refreshing silence, Sheppard announced it was time to move on. Over the next twenty minutes, the team drew deeper into the jungle. The trees grew closer together the further they progressed, with smaller plants thriving in more abundance in the rich black soil. The terrain was becoming more difficult to navigate as well. Teyla, in all her grace, nearly fell face first into a steep incline when a few stones came loose beneath her. The four clambered up the incline and came to an abrupt stop at the top, realizing they had reached their destination. The jungle had grown so thick here that they had not even been able to see the light of the clearing until they were in it.

Just a few paces ahead of them towered the smoky glass dome they had seen from their arrival. The dome was well over ten stories high and just as wide. Even from this close, they could not see through the glass. It even appeared as if the smoky surface were alive, with faint swirls of misty white snaking about the shiny smooth surface. As the team emerged from the shadow of the jungle and into the searing heat of the sun, they realized there was no visible entrance to be seen. They'd have to circle as far as they could around either side to find one, _if_ there even was one.

McKay had dug into his vest to retrieve the detector and was now analyzing the structure. He shook his head and without a word, the team knew there was still nothing to be detected.

From their position, they could see that the dome perched off the edge of towering cliffs to either side of them. There would be no way to completely encircle the dome to find an entrance. For once, they were at a loss as to how to proceed.

Sheppard bit his lip in thought, staring at the dome. He glanced back into the darkened jungle behind them and proceeded to walk over the edge of the incline they had previously climbed. His team watched him quizzically.

"That's it."

"What is it?" Teyla inquired, tilting her head. The others followed as she came to join their leader.

"There has to be an underground entrance."

"Over here." Ronon called. He was perched at the top of the incline several feet away from them, looking over the edge.

The team joined him to view a dark opening in the rock just below the ridge they were standing upon. They carefully climbed down the steep surface and came to stand before the entrance. It was a natural opening in the rock, as far as they could tell. Nothing manipulated by the hand of man. So far, the dome had been the only evidence of such.

Flipping on the flashlights upon their P90s, Teyla and Sheppard pointed them into the entrance. They could see very little, for the walls of the tunnel were made of the same black rock, thus most light was absorbed rather than reflected. What little they could see showed them the tunnel was not long and ended at a shaft of light shining down from a point above. Sheppard went first, followed by McKay and Ronon, with Teyla taking up their six. They traveled as quietly as possible, knowing that they were heading into a potentially hazardous situation…as far as they knew this was the only entrance to and thus exit from the dome.

Only a hollow silence greeted them as they came to stand in the swath of light spilling down from a small opening in the rock above them. A few divots existed in the face of the wall before them providing enough support for one to climb up and into the dome above. Being the leader, Sheppard went first. It only took the look in his eyes for the team to understand he wanted them to remain hidden at the first sign of trouble. With that, Sheppard headed upwards into the light.

A moment later, they could hear Sheppard calling down to them. They looked up, momentarily blinded by the light.

"Ah, guys? You might want to come and join us."

_Us?_

-------tbc-------


	3. Out of the Frying Pan

_Thanks again to Titan5 for looking things over for me!_

-------o-------

CHAPTER 2: Out of the Frying Pan

When the three finally climbed up and entered into the refreshingly cool atmosphere of the dome, they were taken aback. Standing in a half circle along the far end of the dome opposite from them were 12 men of varying heights, all dressed in white robes and all pierced with a single shard of bone through their noses. There was nothing else to occupy the interior of the dome and if they had had time to observe, they would have noticed that they could see clearly out the glass as if it weren't even there.

However, the man they had encountered in the jungle stood in the center of the dome beside a very stiff Sheppard. The colonel's weapons were missing. In fact, his tack vest had been stripped from him. The expression on his face was stony and his eyes flashed a warning to his teammates.

Seconds later, there was struggling as they found themselves being stripped of their weapons and their radios. Ronon was the hardest to persuade, but one glance in Sheppard's direction told him he should comply.

"Colonel, what is going on here?" Teyla demanded to know. She watched their weapons being dropped precariously into a square hole in the floor at the feet of the men across the room.

"You are Ancients."

Again, not a question. The tone of the man standing next to Sheppard was accusatory.

"No, actually." Sheppard replied curtly.

The piercing gaze the man standing beside him was chilling. Enough for his teammates to dare to take another step forward, on the verge of pouncing in the event that Sheppard be attacked.

"We demand to know why you abandoned us!"

The man was almost shaking with rage. The row of men beyond him glared at the newcomers. Some of the men were even snarling. Their fists were clenched tight, gathering the material of their white robes, clawing at something to quell the need to strike flesh.

The air was tense in the silence. Even in the refreshing coolness within the dome, they would have much preferred the unbearable conditions outside. To say their situation was precarious was laughable. Who were these people and why were they so angry?

"Listen, we're just try…" Sheppard began to speak in a reassuring manner when a hand slapped him across the face, the contact resonating throughout the dome. His head whipped to the side from the force of it.

Ronon advanced several steps before he had two men grabbing at his arms, their fingers digging painfully into his bulging muscles. Teyla stepped forward as well, with Rodney following suit, but they knew they were powerless to do anything. Sheppard straightened, rubbing his reddened jaw sorely and narrowed his eyes at the man.

"Ten thousand years." The man punctuated every word, his lip curled in a bitter snarl.

"The Ancients left Atlantis ten thousand years ago." The words had spilled out of his mouth before he had even considered the consequences. Seconds later, Rodney was the one rubbing his jaw sorely after the man standing closest to him had struck him. Apparently, speaking out of turn wasn't tolerated.

The men remaining on the opposite side of the room began to converse with each other in hushed voices. They regained their composure and grew silent as the apparent leader standing beside Sheppard glanced their way.

"Please, there must be some misunderstanding." Teyla began. A hand rose to strike her but in one fluid motion, she stopped it with her own, grasping the wrist of the man behind her and twisting it. The man's eyes bulged in surprise. And then they glazed over with pure spite. No woman was going to strike him down. He struck Teyla on the collarbone in a move so sudden she was on the floor before the others could comprehend what had happened. Teyla moaned, reaching for her upper chest and rubbing the spot sorely. It wasn't a damaging blow, but enough to keep her down momentarily.

Ronon shuffled in the iron grip of the men holding him. Rodney only whimpered and Sheppard grew that much more pissed. Teyla glared up at the man whom had struck her and helped herself off the floor. She was not much shorter than the man, staring him in the eyes with menace.

"Women do not speak."

Teyla chewed the inside of her lip, biting back a retort. She wasn't stupid. Responding would only goad the man on into striking her again.

By now the team had noted the air of authority these men held from both their intense personas as well as their efficient ways of dealing punishment. For once, even Ronon was beginning to think these new opponents were a little out of their league.

It was hostile ground. No one dared make a move. Finally, Sheppard attempted to regain control of the situation.

"We can help you."

The man beside him began to laugh. It was quiet at first then grew into a comically maddening sound that was joined by echoing laughter from the others. Sheppard exchanged uneasy glances with his teammates. Ronon tried to shrug his way out of the grip the men continued to hold on him but to no avail. They were stronger than their appearances made them out to be.

"Let the fighters have them!" A voice cried from the other side of the room.

"Fighters?" Rodney squeaked, his face paling.

The men seemed to have reached a mutual decision and the one standing beside Sheppard smiled devilishly. Sheppard shared another look with his teammates. Things were about to get messy.

In one swift movement, Sheppard brought his fist up and slammed it into the man's face. As the man staggered backwards and the other men started to react, Ronon, Teyla, and even Rodney joined in the fray, striking at the men nearest them.

Ronon sent two men skidding across the polished stone floor of the dome. Teyla had two more spinning from her blows and landing in heaps at her feet. Sheppard was pinning the leader down on the ground with his foot as the man squirmed. Two men were approaching him from behind but no one else seemed to be aware of his situation. Or Rodney's for that matter, as he was currently locked in a strangle hold, sputtering for air.

"Fire!" Someone shouted frantically.

"They're back!" Another warned.

There was a blur of white descending upon the small opening the team had climbed up from. The men were retreating quickly, disappearing before the Atlanteans had a chance to register what was happening. The leader squirming under Sheppard's foot jabbed him in the knee and Sheppard went down with a grunt. The man scrambled off to join his men, far too quick for even Teyla to catch him.

Bringing his knee up to his chest, Sheppard massaged it with both hands and rolled onto his back. He was vaguely aware that his teammates were straightening themselves out after the attack as well. Through his pain-laced eyes, he saw the bright blue sky above, a piercing sun glaring down upon them. Shadows flitted across his vision. Tendrils of wispy black filtered across the sun. His gaze followed the dancing tendrils downwards. Creasing his brow, Sheppard finally saw the reason for the men's hasty exit. Just across the small clearing outside the dome from whence they came was a raging wall of flickering orange flames consuming the white tinder of the trees.

Hands were grabbing at his arms and lifting him up. Sheppard staggered in Ronon's grip as he put weight on his sore knee. The throbbing pain was bearable as he placed more weight on it and decided it was fine.

"You guys okay?" He asked. Rodney was sporting a split lip and a blackening bruise across his throat. Ronon had a cut above his right eye and scratch marks across the length of his left forearm. Teyla had a few more wisps of hair shooting at odd angles from her head, but she was otherwise unscathed.

"Nothing we couldn't handle." Ronon grunted.

"That didn't go so well." Sheppard commented on their attempt at first contact.

"Gee, which part gave it away, Sheppard? The first time they hit you or the second?" Rodney rolled his eyes. He rubbed his throat and made a show of wincing as he swallowed.

"We have to leave." Teyla said in a strong tone. Her eyes reflected the flickering flames as she watched them grow larger.

"That's a great idea, Teyla. However, if you haven't noticed, our only way out is presently being consumed by a raging wildfire." Rodney responded as he tested his back for any sore spots. Ronon rolled his eyes at the scientist and looked to Sheppard, crossing his arms.

"Someone set that fire and they knew who."

Sheppard nodded in agreement.

"Whoever set that fire wanted to flush our guys out of here. They probably ran right into an ambush."

"Ah, guys?" Something in Rodney's voice caused them all to turn in the direction he was facing. There were faint wisps of smoke beginning to curl up from the hole on the far end of the dome. Their only exit.

In a sudden rush, all four raced to opposing ends of the dome, running their hands along the glass surface and even the floor, desperate to find something that could lead them to safety. The smoke began to thicken, drifting upwards and traveling to the center of the massive space. The air became hotter and the sun's rays began to grow dimmer. The smoke was going to suffocate them.

Coughing now, their eyes tearing, the team found themselves losing ground. Teyla was the first to go down to the floor on her knees. Then Rodney. Soon Ronon and Sheppard joined them. The air was coolest and freshest along the still cool stone floor. The smoky air was growing thinner. They were starting to gasp and choke.

Suddenly, hands were on them, dragging them across the floor. Because of the smoke, they were subdued…not even Ronon could muster the strength to struggle. And to their fortune, these hands were guiding them to an unseen exit near the center of the dome floor. The cover was perfectly cylindrical and silently opened as if by magic. Pieces that had formed the circle retracted into the sides of the newly revealed exit. Darkness greeted the escapees from below. The team was unceremoniously dumped into the exit, their anonymous rescuers following shortly thereafter.

The rescuers had been swift. They must have had something covering their faces. For none of Sheppard's team, albeit in their current state of distress, could clearly make out their identities.

As their senses came back to them, the team found themselves resting in a small tunnel filled with refreshingly cool dry air. There was a small hint of light off to their right, leading back into the depths of the jungle from what they could see. As they straightened themselves out, coughing the last of the smoke out of their lungs, they looked to see who had rescued them.

Even in the darkness, they could see the eyes. Mad, menacing eyes sparkling with glee. There were four sets of them. Their features were hard to make out, but the team could already tell the four were of a different status on the social ladder. Their dirt-smudged clothes were ragged and torn, hanging limply off their bony bodies. Their hair was short and ruffled…not unlike Sheppard's. And their faces were drawn out. Three were men and one was a woman.

A distinctive noise, not unlike the call of some kind of monkey traveled to their ears. Those manic eyes focused on the light at the end of the tunnel. Without so much as a glance, their rescuers skittered out of the tunnel and into the light of the jungle. The team glanced at each other befuddled.

"Too much caffeine?" Rodney suggested. If it had been any other situation, he might have gotten a snigger out of at least Sheppard. But by now, the colonel had reached the end of his patience.

"We're leaving. We can find that switchback we saw on the cliff face and bypass the fire that way to get back to the Jumper." Sheppard commanded, standing upright and swaying unsteadily for a moment. He brought a hand up to steady himself against the carved rock of the tunnel. He wasn't the only one feeling light-headed by the sudden movement. The others got up as well, taking a moment to recover.

"But…but…ZedPMs! They _built _ZedPMs, Sheppard! How can we just walk away from that? We have to…"

"Rodney!" Sheppard turned to face the scientist, his tone sharp. Rodney shut up abruptly, staring with fear into the glare of intolerance. "The natives aren't exactly rolling out the welcome mats. There are no energy readings. Face it. There's nothing here."

Sheppard turned towards the tunnel exit and began to lead them out. Ronon and Teyla gave Rodney looks as they turned to follow. His jaw hung open.

"The colonel is right, Rodney. There's nothing here. We must return to Atlantis." Teyla reasoned, her voice fading as she walked further away from him. Rodney snapped out of his reverie rather quickly, glancing about the darkness fearfully and rushing to meet up with his team.

Once they exited the cave, they came to see they were on the northern side of the dome, just below the cliff. Great billows of black smoke rose into the sky above them. A large expanse of bushy green vegetation stretched out before them, ending in a sliver of white bordering a sparkling blue sea. There was a rather sharp drop off immediately to their right and ahead of them. But to the left was a narrow pathway carved into the weathered black stone. The pathway was large enough for two people to walk side-by-side.

The team began to make their way along the pathway, noting that it began to lead into a slight decline instead of an incline. Though they couldn't see too far into the distance where the path led them, they could tell it didn't take them where they needed to go. Up. The Jumper was on the other side of the mountaintop. The fire wasn't the only obstacle now.

"Is anyone else beginning to think the people of this planet are a little crazy, or is it just me?" Rodney pondered, gesturing towards the treetops at large that they were presently towering above.

"Define crazy." Sheppard paused in his trek. He turned to stare hard at McKay, his eyes boring into the scientist as if he were the very definition of crazy.

The path started to turn sharply and descend in the opposite direction. They had reached the first switchback. The path was beginning to grow littered with small plants and loose rock. They were just beginning to reach level with the top of the trees of the jungle. The air was getting heavier. That same unwelcome mugginess was greeting them as they descended into jungle.

After what seemed likes hours, and eight switchbacks later, the team finally made it to the bottom. The path opened up into a broad clearing beneath a canopy of leaves providing the relief of shade. By now they were all covered in sweat and panting in the stifling hot air. Teyla and Rodney took sips from the canteens they still had on them. Ronon shared his water with Sheppard. They took in their surroundings as they rested, noting that the forest floor was a little more crowded with undergrowth here. Foreign creatures, most likely birds, chirped and cooed in the branches above and around them. If it hadn't been for their dire situation, they would have probably enjoyed the serenity of it all.

And just like that, fate screwed them again.

Charging screams filled the air from off to their right. A moment later, matching screams could be heard further off in the opposite direction. All four snapped their heads in the direction of each new sound, alarm jumpstarting their hearts into a flurry of beats.

More screams, this time closer.

And suddenly, breaking through the underbrush, were more natives, similar in appearance to their rescuers. Their fists clenched and pumping into the air, their faces drawn out in fear or excitement. Maybe both. They appeared not to notice the team as they raced right past them. One came so close to colliding with Teyla that her hair flitted in his wake.

From the opposite end of the clearing, another group of these peculiar natives came barreling through. Without so much as a glance, the team decided as one to high tale it out of there. Ronon and Sheppard headed off in one direction and as Teyla and Rodney made to follow, the first group rushed between them, separating them. Before they could catch up, Ronon and Sheppard had already disappeared through the underbrush.

Teyla looked over her shoulder to Rodney as they darted through the mass of bodies running around them. Rodney was trying his best not to panic. He kept his eyes trained on her, willing her to go faster. Another flood of bodies rushing by nearly sent them both to the ground. The natives were crisscrossing one another, and they appeared not to notice the confusion they were creating.

Teyla grabbed Rodney's wrist and dragged him in another direction. Within a minute, they were both out of harm's way, hiding behind a thicket near the otherwise comical scene before them. The natives would appear to be charging at one another, then right when it looked as though they would hit, they'd simply pass each other by.

"We have to find Sheppard and Ronon." Teyla said, keeping her voice hushed. It wasn't as if the natives would hear her. They were having too much fun screaming at each other.

"Please, _please_ don't let this be a mating ritual." Rodney rolled his head on his neck.

--o--

"Sheppard, we've lost Teyla and McKay."

Both men paused and turned to look behind them.

Nothing but a great expanse of trees and undergrowth.

"Ah, crap!"

They both took a step forward when something made them turn back around.

Standing in the undergrowth just yards from their position were five bare-chested men. Their darkened skin perfectly concealed them amongst the low-lit surroundings. They were bulky…their muscles even more defined than Ronon's. The expression on their faces was one of intense rage.

Ronon and Sheppard glanced at each other.

"Shit."

------- tbc -------


	4. Unfiltered

CHAPTER 3: Unfiltered

They should have known better than to trust these people. McKay's whiny voice and images of shiny ZPMs danced in their heads and that had sealed the deal. They had known before leaving Atlantis that these people hid a thing or two up their sleeve. The Ancients had them filed under something Sheppard associated as a watch list. They just didn't play well together. This was a known fact and _still_ they had come to the planet.

Sheppard would have smacked himself, but a fist flying into his line of sight from the left did the job for him. His head snapped back and a flash of brilliant red invaded his vision. Pain radiated from the point of impact but Sheppard was too distracted by fending off the next blow to care.

Ronon grunted beside him and he felt, rather than saw, the large man tumble to the ground with three large, bare-chested men barreling down on him. Too bad Sheppard was a bit preoccupied at the moment, or he would have found humor in the way the men flew off into the underbrush as Ronon came roaring back into action.

Without warning, Sheppard was knocked from his feet and he fell to the ground with a grunt. He saw too many of the wild men converging upon him. His back screamed at him and he panted as he fought to bring air into his abused lungs. He could hear grunts and cries off to his right but he had no idea if Ronon was the one inflicting the pain or suffering it.

His mind drifted to his other two teammates as the men around him pummeled balled fists and bare feet into him. He hoped they were safe. _Ugh._ There goes a rib. _Ooh._ That was a little too close to the boys. The abuse just kept on coming. His vision was beginning to produce flashes of random light. Through those flashes, he spied the insane rage painted upon the battle-hardy faces of his attackers. Fear danced around his fading consciousness.

-------o-------

Slipping into the undergrowth of the jungle and away from the menagerie that was the natives been a little too easy. But that is exactly what Teyla and McKay had accomplished. Yet they could not seem to pick up on the trail of their teammates. Teyla stooped to the ground ever so often, checking for tracks, but to no avail. McKay glanced nervously over his shoulder from time to time. They could still hear the manic shrieks from afar.

"If it weren't for the fact that we are currently lost in a creepy jungle filled with crazy people, I'd almost be bored. The lack of technology on this planet is dismal to say the least."

Teyla would only glance back at him as he continued his monologue, never revealing her thoughts on their current predicament. McKay could tell she was worried but she was well accustomed to these kinds of situations. She was more relaxed than the gentle ripples of the incoming tide just as she could be as ferocious as an unsuspecting torrent of water churning to shore.

"Seriously, if we don't get back to the Jumper soon, I'm going to delve into quantum theories to stave off boredom."

They stomped through more underbrush, pushing onward for what seemed like hours when in reality, it was only nearly one. Rodney indeed began to ramble on into quantum theories and Teyla had just as quickly tuned him out. She listened intently to the life of the jungle about them. She was learning its language and she did not like what she was hearing.

Snap.

A twig? Teyla scanned the depths of the trees shading them from the mid-day sun. She caught movement thirty yards from their current position. She brought her arm up, fist bound tight. McKay nearly ran face first into said fist and stopped abruptly.

"What? What is it?" His wide eyes darted around frantically. McKay had never been one for the outdoors. Computer keys and coffee mugs clinking in a lab were sounds he was most attuned to.

Teyla stared at him out the corner of her eye, her face set in caution. She tilted her head, like she often did when trying to sense the Wraith.

A small rustle in the underbrush fifteen yards in the opposite direction had both spinning around, bodies tense and at the ready for attack.

"Ow!"

McKay's exasperated voice was louder than Teyla would have liked in their present situation. She gave him her signature disapproving lift of an eyebrow. McKay rubbed his head, peering up into the thick overhang of branches.

A small object came hurtling down at him and this time, he narrowly avoided impact. It bounced harmlessly off the rich soil beneath his feet. As his eyes rested upon the object a look of annoyance spread over his face, all fear melting away in an instant. He stooped to pick it up and twist it in his fingers. Glancing upward, he suddenly hurled it back to whence it came.

A sharp yelp came in reply.

Fear came stampeding back. Teyla drew closer to McKay, the lean muscles in her shoulders tightening with tension.

Another object came hurtling downwards. Teyla caught it swiftly and brought it up so that both she and McKay could identify it.

"Huh, looks like some kind of over-sized walnut…OW!"

As the third "walnut" smacked into his forehead, giggling could be heard within the heights of the trees. Teyla peered out of the corner of her eyes at McKay with amusement. She could not stop the smile from forming upon her lips.

"It seems you attract children on nearly every inhabited planet we visit, Dr. McKay. Perhaps you should introduce yourself before more of them catch on to this…_sport_."

McKay jutted his chin out ready to fire back a retort when another walnut nearly collided with his left shoulder. He stooped down, grabbed one of the walnuts and hurled it back upwards into the trees.

"Hey!" Came a child's whiny voice.

McKay smiled in a smug fashion. After waiting several moments to see if anything would become of his retaliation, the teammates began to move forward again. After another twenty minutes, McKay noted that Teyla was tense, glancing about the trees more frequently.

"What is it?" McKay asked, immediately sensing her unease.

"They are following us."

"Who?" McKay began to search frantically through the thick trees with his eyes.

"The children." Teyla remained serious only for a moment, before chuckling light-heartedly.

"Don't _do_ that! You could have given me a heart attack!" McKay raised his voice. After settling down, his eyes still scanning the trees, he became serious. "Why are there children in the trees?"

"I do not know." Teyla murmured with her head tilted to the left. "I can only sense four at the moment."

"You can sense them?" McKay had stopped in his tracks to stare at Teyla in wonder. She would have rolled her eyes but she chose to state the obvious.

"I can _hear_ them, Dr. McKay. I believe from the variety of sounds that there are four. They hide themselves well." At her last statement, she searched the trees, narrowing her eyes as she caught movement beyond a thicket of trees. Just a flash of tan-colored skin: but nothing more. McKay was already off on a tangent by now as she turned her attention back to him.

"Considering the Heracs were once tantamount in intelligence to the Ancients, I'm finding a lot of things about these people rather substandard, Teyla.' He began to tick things off with his fingers splayed before him. "They don't appear to have any technology, which goes against everything we've learned from the database about these people I might add. They have crazy people running loose in the jungle. The government, if that's what you want to call those guys in togas, flew the coop because of a little fire. _And_ there's no air conditioning."

McKay paused a moment to catch his breath. Sweat was rolling off his skin at an alarming rate. Their canteens were almost empty and they'd need to refill them sooner than later. "We shouldn't be surprised they have children living in trees. If only Earth would take a hint and outlaw children in public places…."

Teyla paused, stopping enough in her stride to cause McKay to nearly stumble. He glanced back at her in surprise. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Have you not considered that perhaps they live this way out of choice? Just because they appear not to live in 'great' kingdoms of metal or possess technology to 'ease' their hardships does not make them any less intelligent than you or I."

McKay crinkled his brow at this new introspection. He was unaware that Teyla had resumed on through the trees when another crack sent a sharp report of pain from his head. Seething, he glared upwards and moved forward to catch up with Teyla. Light-hearted giggles carried on the light breeze.

-------o-------

Once when he was nearly seven, Sheppard fell from the massive oak tree in the backyard. He had fractured his femur in two places and had to have two screws surgically implanted to help in fusing the bones back together. After an entire night of miserable pain, his father had told him to quit whining and just suck it up. Men weren't supposed to show weakness. Pain was only useful for reminding us that we weren't immortal. Sheppard hadn't had a very loving relationship with his father.

Now, the pain was beyond excruciating. He hurt in places he hadn't previously been aware of, if that were even possible. It took every bit of willpower to command his arms and legs to shuffle across the rich cool black soil beneath him. One arm in front of the other, feet dragging behind…a bit of adrenaline would fuel him every so once in a while and he could command his knees to join in on the forward momentum. So when he realized he couldn't just suck it up this time, Sheppard began to laugh out loud, even though it sent stabs of pain radiating across his chest. What was one more bit of pain anyway?

His laughter sounded muffled against the thinning underbrush surrounding him. When Sheppard had awoken…funny because he hadn't been aware of losing consciousness in the first place…he had found himself alone in the underbrush. Ronon was nowhere to be found. Wherever he had gone, Sheppard sincerely hoped the man wasn't in such dire straights as him. He also bleakly hoped that Teyla was slapping McKay upside the head in his honor for the predicament they had landed themselves in.

_No technology for play makes for a very useless McKay. _Sheppard thought giddily, another bout of laughter escaping his split lip. The blood was already dry.

-------o-------

Ronon awoke to several hands slapping his bruised cheeks. A low growl began to rumble in his throat, eliciting said hands to immediately withdraw. Opening his eyes, Ronon sat bolt upright, startling the mass of bodies surrounding him. There were torn raggedy old clothes draped upon skeleton-like bodies. Wild straw-blonde hair shot out in every direction, long and short. Wide frantic eyes of blue or green or gray darted from one thing to the next.

Drawn faces, malnourished even, glanced from him to each other to the surrounding trees of the jungle. From Ronon's count, there were at least eleven of these people…the natives that had nearly trampled him and his teammates.

_Where was Sheppard?_

Glancing around, his dreadlocks flipping back and forth, Ronon found only the constantly shifting natives blocking his view. They were watching him. They appeared intimidated by him. His aching body told of the abuse he had suffered not too long ago. The threat – those bare-chested men – were nowhere in sight.

"Water." Ronon requested, finding his canteen missing. One of the natives must have taken it. He found comfort in the fact that he had seven knifes hidden strategically about his person.

A young blonde man knelt before him. His hair would have given Sheppard a run for his money. A genuine smile spread across his fatigued features. His teeth were perfectly white. Blue eyes flitted over Ronon's dirt and blood-streaked body.

"We'll get you some. Not a worry, friend. Not a worry." He reached out to pat Ronon on the shoulder but found a massive hand clamped around his wrist stopping movement all together. He followed the length of the arm up to Ronon's meaningful glare. Nonetheless, the man appeared not to be intimidated.

"We must take you to the shore. It is safer there. You want water. We have water. Clean water. _Pure_ water."

"Clean, pure water." The others began to chant the words, the smiles almost contagious in appearing on every one of their faces like little lights flipping on in the dark.

Ronon narrowed his eyes in question.

"I need water now." He knew they were far from the shore and the heat of the jungle would only make things worse. Add to the list his mounting pain and his questionable ability to walk on throbbing, bleeding legs…he wasn't going to make it very far unaided.

There was some commotion. A couple of shrieks emitted from those standing in the rear.

"Nonononononononono!"

Another figure emerged to the front, this one a female whose hair flowed to the mid section of her back, frizzy and unkempt. A matching pair of blue eyes rested upon Ronon and she knelt down beside the man. She shook her head.

"Please, come with us." She held out a frail hand as if to offer assistance to Ronon. Ronon brushed her off rather rudely and stubbornly lifted himself off the ground. Those same hands reached out and supported him as he swayed. Black dots danced in his vision briefly before clearing. Titling his neck from side to side produced a satisfying snap of cartilage and bone readjusting. Ronon shrugged his shoulders as the natives gathered about him, ready to leave their position.

"Lead the way."

-------o-------

Sweat rolled off his bruising face, dripping off the tip of his nose. The heat was beyond sweltering and all he could hope for was that it was nearing midday, thus the temperature would surely begin to drop. However, it was foreign territory: it would normally take days to learn the song and dance of this planet. Sunset, sunrise, the three moons and their effect on the tides, weather patterns…all these things of nature that speak louder than words but much too often ignored.

Something made him pause in his disrupted flow of thought. Trickling. Liquid…water! He hadn't realized until now (_perhaps it was the pain, dumbass_) how thirsty he was.

He had nothing on him…not his weapons, his tack vest, not even his canteen. And he knew by now, as he realized some short time ago, he no longer had his boots. Which meant his knife hidden in a strap about his ankle was also absent. _Damn, should've brought spares. _Another giggle escaped his lips.

He paused in his trek forward and listened. A small smile formed upon his face and he winced from the use of bruised muscles. The water was close. He could even feel the air around him grow cooler with each drag forward.

Finally, he caught sight of a gentle bubbling stream of clear liquid cascading down nearly jet-black smooth pebbles. The brush edging the stream was nearly non-existent. His access to leaning over the banks was as simple as lying flat on his abused chest and dipping a trembling hand into the refreshingly cool water.

-------o-------

Sweat was practically pouring off of them at this point. Teyla and McKay found themselves almost sluggish, placing one rather unsteady foot in front of the other. Their water supply was gone. So were the children that had been trailing them, as far as Teyla could determine. She insisted that she could hear the trickling of water not too far off from their position.

They trudged onward.

-------o-------

Sheppard threw a splash of water over his face, rubbing his face tenderly and relishing in the brief comfort. He slowly eased himself forward a bit more and began to scoop water and trickle it over any exposed wounds he had about his body. And there were plenty among his now shredded uniform. Wasn't like those came by the dozen, either.

-------o-------

Finally, they had found water. It was a river with white foamy water tumbling over rocks and cascading down a slight slope in the jungle. The trees were thinner here, allowing sunlight to pour down upon them. The hot rays blazed down on their sweaty skin as McKay filled their canteens. It was the least he could do after upsetting Teyla earlier.

He screwed the cap onto Teyla's canteen and proceeded to fill his own. When it was nearly full, McKay brought it to his parched lips.

"STOP!"

Startled, his hands fumbled and he dropped the canteen straight into the fast-moving water. He let out an exasperated sigh, threw his head back and spun around to yell back at whomever had spoken.

To his surprise, he found a rather battered Ronon surrounded by a mass of the crazy natives from earlier. Teyla was standing close by, alert, but from the look in Ronon's eyes, the only danger of the moment was currently focused on McKay.

"What happened to you? Where's Sheppard?" He stood abruptly.

"Don't drink the water." Ronon's stoic voice carried through the clearing. The warrior was losing steam, swaying on his feet. He looked ready to topple at any moment.

Rodney backed away from the river, staring at it as if it were a vile thing. He came to stand beside Teyla and heard a whump. Looking over, he found Ronon lying flat on his face with a couple of the natives rushing to his side, patting at his face. Ronon didn't move.

-------o-------

He scooped up a mouthful and slurped from his cupped hands. Immediately, Sheppard sprayed the water out, his face scrunching up in shock and disgust. The water was bitter. Amazingly cold, but disturbingly bitter. Shaking his head as if to rid of the notion, he took another sip. This time, he kept the water down, relishing as it flowed down his throat and into his empty stomach.

-------o-------

"Ronon." Teyla's soft voice called over the rushing water. She had his head cradled in her lap and she was gently tapping him on the cheek.

The group of natives was huddled together in crouched positions a few yards away near the trees. They were whispering to each other. They appeared to be on constant alert: their movement rash, eyes darting all around.

McKay was pacing behind Teyla. He maintained a little distance from the natives. Wringing his hands, he would occasionally glance over to see if Ronon had regained consciousness.

"I need to be doing something. I need to be working on something." He muttered. He was beginning to realize how fond he had grown of tinkering with Ancient devices just as much as he was in discovering them.

"Just once, I'd like to find a nice planet where the people are friendly and willing to hand over any ZedPMs they should so happen to possess."

"Rodney." Teyla's voice was a warning. He glanced up to find a young man standing before them, a smile plastered on his face in a gesture of friendliness.

"The water is bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Don't drink the water."

"Yes, we already established that…" Rodney prompted, waiting for the native to continue, hoping to finally get some answers.

"Filtered water, that's what we did. Do. Done. Dead. No more. Water clean. We keep water clean, pure."

Behind them, the natives began to chant quietly. "Clean, pure water."

After a long pause in which Teyla and McKay exchanged perplexed glances, McKay glanced back at the seemingly harmless river.

"What's wrong with the water?" His voice squeaked.

"Water bad."

-------o-------

At first he didn't notice. The pain of water contacting open flesh wounds temporarily disguised it. But then, after he had taken enough slurps, he sensed a tingling numbness taking over his body. That was the best he could describe it as. His aches and pains were beginning to ebb away. His clouding mind was clearing. Everything began to appear brighter and more colorful around him. Sounds of faraway creatures increased in tone and quantity. And that bitter taste in the water began to slowly die away.

Something strange was happening to him. He knew it. But for some reason, he simply didn't care anymore. Strength returned to his muscles. His heart beat faster. Adrenaline pumped into his veins with such ferocity his head was spinning. Whatever this was, he liked it.

Sheppard struggled to a stand, a rush of light-headedness darkening his vision momentarily. He took a testy step forward and found he could support his own weight. He smiled. Far away, he heard a battle cry. He turned to this noise, knowing deep down the source of it. His aches and pains seemingly forgotten, he rushed into the depths of the trees.

-------tbc-------


	5. Belligerence

CHAPTER 4: Belligerence

-------o-------

His father was standing there staring at him. Curse the man, would he ever leave? A feathery bristle of green swept across his visage, obstructing his view of the man before him. Standing there, not five feet before him was his father, in full military dress. Medals glinted in the dull sunlight cascading through the canopy from above. A scruff of white hair bristled in the slight breeze weaving through the trees. A stubborn snarl stationed upon a weathered face. Just like he had always remembered the bastard.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest but he couldn't do a thing about it. His body was pulsing with energy and to prove it, an energizing tingling sensation was buzzing through his torso and radiating out to the very tips of his fingers and toes. He should be moving toward the battle cries of earlier. But this…whatever it was…kept him momentarily stationary.

"Go away. Better yet, go to hell." John's voice was sharp, to the point. His glare fixated upon the man before him. "You're dead."

"Stubborn old man like me? Nah." The general waved a hand with a snort. "I know how to get to a man, John. Dig in deep and start tearing until it bleeds. Don't stop until the screams do. It's what I do, John. And damn proud of it."

"Did. It's what you _did_. You're dead now. You shouldn't be here." Sheppard shook his head, taking a step forward before he realized that in his mind, he would have much more preferred to take a step backward.

"Ah, and neither should you." The grin on that red-tinged face was enough to make Sheppard's skin crawl except he couldn't stir up enough fear at the moment to feel such a sensation. He was rather feeling very alive, ready to take action.

"You shouldn't be here." Sheppard was beginning to sound like a broken record. The general stepped forward until he was face to face with his son. Their noses were inches apart. Sheppard swore he could feel the heat radiating off the other man's skin. That alone was disturbing. His father had died years ago. This shouldn't be happening.

He realized his sweaty hands had curled into tight fists on instinct at the sudden approach. He stared deep into the hazel eyes staring back at him…so real…so mesmerizing. He found he couldn't look away.

"Don't drink the water."

The statement nearly had Sheppard stumbling backward in shock. _What the hell?_

"'S a little late for that…but thanks for the little father son chat. It was…nice."

Sheppard made to turn away, but a disturbingly solid hand planted upon his left shoulder turned him around to face the apparition that was his deceased father once again. The adrenaline coursing throughout his body fueled him and suppressed the fear that begged to emerge. H shrugged free from his father's grasp and stalked off into the underbrush, not once looking back.

-------o-------

"You know, it'd be nice if just once, _just once_, we'd get some straight answers in the introductions and greetings back at the beginning instead of waiting until the point where all hell breaks loose and we have to find things out the hard way!"

Rodney paced back and forth, wringing his hands. His eyes darted from an unconscious Ronon resting in Teyla's nap to the huddle of crazed natives whispering to one another and shifting in jerky movements from one second to the next. Their constant shifting was enough to drive Rodney insane.

"Rodney! Please!" Came the exasperated cry from Teyla. She had given up on trying to raise Ronon and instead was gently cleaning his wounds with the first aid kit from her tack vest. It wasn't much, but it was the best she could do in their current situation.

Rodney paused in his pacing and looked to the man whom had warned them earlier about the water.

"What's wrong with the water?" He demanded an answer.

The man jumped, startled at the sudden directness of Rodney's rash behavior. He seemed to curl into himself momentarily. The hand of one of the woman rested upon his shoulder in a comforting gesture. They exchanged weary glances that spoke volumes…only in their language. With that, the man rose and came to stand before McKay and Teyla, studying the unconscious Satedan wearily.

"Friend or foe?"

Rodney scrunched his brow in question, glancing at Teyla whom seemed to comprehend the question immediately.

"Friend." She stated softly with a gentle nod. The man nodded in return, a slight smile twitching upon his frail lips.

"I am Roshan."

"Teyla Emmagan. This is Ronon Dex and that is Dr. Rodney McKay. We are travelers from another world. Please, if you could help us, we would be greatly…"

"No." The man stated resolutely, shaking his head and taking a step backwards.

"No? What do you mean, no? We're in a pretty shitty situation here, Roshan. Our bodies can't tolerate the heat of your planet, ergo we're sweating out most of the precious fluids our bodies require, and we're utterly lost. We can't drink the water because…well we don't know why yet, but I'm not about to find out. We can't get back to our only ticket out of here and our team leader is currently lost…though most likely on his own accord. His left foot's a little shorter than the right, so I'm sure he's just walking around in cir…."

"Dr. McKay!" Teyla's abrupt reply stopped the rant before it gained momentum. Rodney appeared to gather himself and straightened, his chin jutting out.

"Sorry." He muttered.

"Please. Follow and we will show you." Roshan beckoned, beginning to lead the way as the rest of his kind rose from their feet. They were heading back in to the depths of the jungle, away from their only source of replenishment.

"Show us what?" McKay couldn't stop himself. Roshan only continued onward, fully expecting the two to haul an unconscious _giant_ along the way.

"The suffering of our people." Roshan replied and with that, fell silent, following as the rest of the natives led the way into the trees.

Rodney looked to Teyla, who looked no less perplexed than he. Together, they gathered Ronon between them, the man never emitting a sound as they lifted his arms around their shoulders and trudged forward to slowly follow the crazies, as Rodney so dubbed them.

-------o-------

Embedded in the mud ahead of him was a rash of hurried footsteps. Five toes, heel and arch. Human. Strides measured at least a meter apart. The deepest portion of the impression, the weight, was settled on the front pad of the footprints. Running.

Sheppard sniffed at the air. He was close. He listened intently against the soft bristling of leaves, the twittering of foreign creatures…he could hear their heavy panting. They were on the move. They weren't heading towards him, but away. Towards what, he didn't care. He just wanted to join them. His brethren. They needed him.

-------o--------

"We missed our first check-in." Rodney grunted. Ronon's weight was unbearable. He shifted the limp man's weight so that he could carry him more efficiently and turned his head toward a similarly struggling Teyla.

"Dr. Weir will presume the worst and send a rescue team, Rodney. Do not worry."

Rodney would have stopped in his tracks, but that would have caused all three of them to come tumbling to the ground. He kept his voice lowered, eyeing the natives carefully navigating their way through the underbrush ahead of them.

"Oh, don't worry, you say? Excuse me for being a hypochondriac, but had the thought occurred to you that if we ran into this much trouble that surely our rescue team may be shortly in need of saving themselves? This planet has thus far produced anything worthy of the label "advanced" and we have thus far failed to meet any _intelligent_ life forms. I don't care what anyone else says. We dialed the wrong planet."

Teyla kept her mouth shut but silently chortled to herself. Hadn't Ronon been the one to accuse Rodney of dialing the wrong planet not just this morning?

"Dr. McKay, you do realize the information you recovered from the Ancient database is at least ten thousand years old? Any number of things can happen to a planet in that length of time. My people alone experienced a fluctuation of discoveries and losses that both advanced and set us back. And that is not including the devastation incurred by the Wraith."

"The Wraith!" Rodney's eyes widened at the mention. "You don't think…'

"I do not think so. I do not sense a fear of Wraith from these people. They fear the natural elements more so, which I find rather disturbing in itself. They are an unsettled people, Rodney. It would not do to dwell on what could be but rather to ponder what _is_."

His head would have been spinning at that insight if it weren't for the fact that he was a genius. Rodney remained uncharacteristically quiet for the remainder of their trek through the muggy, bug-infested jungle.

-------tbc --------


	6. Risha

CHAPTER 5: Risha

Fear was emanating off these new visitors to their planet in waves. So much that there was a foul scent in the air…two distinctive scents, for that matter. The third, presently unconscious visitor emitted a raw scent of fatigue and pain but nothing more.

These people did not trust easily nor did they readily offer sympathy. It was as if they were familiar in more ways than one. The Ancients had been fabled to be emotionally hardened beings. Maybe these people were one and the same.

One more emotion washed over them stronger than fear. And it wasn't hatred. For that, they could be thankful. No, this was something different, something they couldn't fathom.

Hope.

It was a foreign word that sent fear crawling up one's spine. There was no such thing as hope. How could there be when there was no future left to live for?

--o--

Rodney and Teyla had learned by now not to exchange silent messages via facial expression. Every little twitch of their muscles seemed to set the crazies off into muttering fits of curling and uncurling already tense fingers. The small group leading them through the jungle stared at them nonetheless, shoulders hunched, eyes piercing into them like lasers only to dart away just before crossing the eye line of either of their newfound travelers.

Gurgling of a very empty stomach broke their nearly silent trek. A few birds squawked in seeming protest, but otherwise, all carried on. Rodney was hungry. He rubbed his stomach, as if the notion would cease the gurgling. Scowling, he realized he had recently eaten the very last power bar of the trip. None left in his jacket pocket. None left back on the jumper…if they ever made it back. And now he wanted to kick himself especially hard: there weren't any left in the Pegasus Galaxy either. He'd eaten the last of the stock and thinking back with brief fondness, he remembered Sheppard ranting about how they needed to ration their supplies just that morning. About how the Daedalus was a luxury line cruiser that only arrived every once in a great while, pending any intergalactic emergency that might call upon her for duty.

He missed Sheppard. Well, actually, he missed their bantering as much as it pained them both. He knew deep down, no matter how much the colonel complained, that they were the best of friends. It was a rare kind of relationship, but one that was more genuine than most.

Teyla paused in the path before him causing him to run straight into her. Her small frame was no match for his and they nearly fell off balance before righting themselves again. Teyla sent McKay another one of her quirked eyebrow expressions but this time, there was a faint trace of a smile on her lips. Her eyes, however, were wary, staring intently at McKay as if to communicate some message.

The scenery was changing…meaning they were reaching the shore now. Glancing to the group of crazies carrying a still unconscious Ronon before them, Rodney observed that they were climbing down a root-infested slope. The trees were beginning to thin here and the dirt beneath their feet was growing lighter, the black rock mingling with sprinkles of white sand blown inland. It wouldn't be long before they would discover their fate in the hands of these unusual natives.

Glancing back to Teyla, Rodney observed her tense muscles and her calculating gaze. He knew she was ready to take these people on no matter the outcome…she would fight to the death. Just like the other two of his team. Rodney was seriously beginning to wonder who was more sane…their apparent captors or his teammates.

Roshan was clear ahead of them by now, leading those carrying Ronon over a small crest and into a brighter portion of the jungle. As sunlight began to filter through the thinning overhead of foliage, Rodney dreaded the suffocating heat of the jungle that was causing the sweat to drip down his back would only become worse. That is, until an amazing breeze wafted their way, brushing upon the beads of perspiration, relieving the heat if only momentarily.

They had finally reached the shoreline. The newfound breeze coming off the ocean was like a good old-fashioned air conditioner. Relishing in the relief it brought, Rodney closed his eyes briefly, feeling Teyla standing beside him, mimicking his actions. They could hear the soft pit pat of the crazies as they herded onto the white sands of the shore. Bits of wind-swept sand swept up into their faces but they didn't mind…anything to escape the mugginess of the darkened jungle now thankfully behind them.

Opening his eyes, Rodney took in the sight before him. An impressively expansive blue sea of sparkles upon gentle ripple upon ripple stretched to the horizon, blending into an equally blue sky. Two moons hovered at the eleven-o-clock position above them.

Snaking from left to right a thin strip of wind-shaped ripples of sand glared in the bright sunlight. Feathery pale green grass wavered on the crest of the shore that bordered a contrasting bed of black bedrock along the edge of the jungle behind them. It would have been nearly impossible to land a puddle jumper here without the backend dragging into the water.

The place was serene, were it not for the group of crazy natives now laying their friend down in a small cove of shaded grass to their right. Some of them were scattering down the shoreline, running on the very lip of water bordering the sand. Others were hovering around Roshan, who was now staring down at Ronon as if in deep thought.

Rodney figured now would be an opportune moment to discuss their options with Teyla. However, she beat him to it.

"I think it would be safe to assume that by now Colonel Sheppard would be asking you how we would be getting out of this one, Dr. McKay. Because it would seem that these people aren't exactly in their right mind. I do not think negotiating with them will help. Our best course of action would be to retrieve Ronon and get back to the Jumper. Do you not agree?" Her inquisitive eyes found Rodney's. Sweat trailed down her face, beaded on her shoulders and arms much as it did upon the scientist.

Rodney gave her a weak smile in return. He opened his mouth ready to fire a retort then closed it. He didn't have that kind of rapport with Teyla. Only Sheppard. _Where the hell was he?_

"Dr. McKay?"

Teyla was looking at him with an inquiring gaze, her brow furrowed. Rodney cleared his head and took stock of their situation. Sheppard: missing in action. Ronon: injured and unconscious. Teyla: eager to kick ass and high tail it out of there. Rodney: starved, tired, and really getting sick of this botched mission routine. Crazy natives: now lined up staring at the two as if they were the main course for dinner that evening.

So not good.

"Ah, um…." Rodney began. He paused momentarily. He began to snap his fingers like he always did when a brilliant idea bestowed him. A rather comical thing happened then…though only in afterthought of the situation. At the time, it was much more alarming.

The natives began to scream and scurry. Some ran for the path the others had taken along the edge of the water and others into the jungle. It wasn't long before only Roshan was standing before them, visibly shaken, but strong enough to hold his own. Ronon lay at his feet, stirring in his restless sleep now, but never waking.

"I take it you had an idea, Rodney?" Teyla stated. Her voice was muffled though, as she had clenched her teeth in frustration. Her intention from the beginning had been to keep the crazies as calm as possible.

McKay allowed a small squeak but nothing more. His face was scrunched up, his features emanating the guilt he was experiencing.

No matter, for Roshan was still standing before them, as if patiently awaiting the scientist to speak. His hands were clasped behind his back and for once he was not twitching like the others. His focus was completely on them steady as if it were always how he held his demeanor.

Change of tactic. Rodney decided it was time to play up his nonexistent negotiating skills. Luckily, he had Teyla to jump in and take over as soon as she realized what he was attempting to do.

"Roshan, is it? Yeah, so, here's the thing. We're in a bit of trouble and we'd appreciate it if you'd let us take our friend there, find our leader and leave as soon as humanly possible. I'll have you know that we're all very well trained in hand-to-hand combat, so I wouldn't try anything." Rodney paused briefly, studying Roshan's unwavering expression and timidly added. "How does that sound?"

Teyla gave him a look that told him to simply shut up and focused her attention on Roshan, daring a step forward. The man did not move but the fallen Runner at his feet shifted slightly.

"Please. Our friend needs our help. And our leader is missing. Surely you do not believe we would harm you. We do not intend to do so. We only wish to return to our home." She smiled then, genuine and pure.

Roshan reflected the smile but his words were less comforting.

"You cannot leave."

"What?! Why?" Rodney began but before he could go into a tirade, Teyla stopped him with a warning glance.

"I will take you to Risha, my twin. She sees what we do not. You will not be harmed. My word. My word." Roshan assured them. His gaze was honest and he looked down to Ronon. "We will fix him. Fix and free. Fly away he will. Once again."

And with that, like the sudden clouding of a bright sky before a storm, Roshan reverted back to the off-centered man they had met earlier that day. His shoulders began to hunch, his gaze began to falter, and his fists curled and uncurled in an agitated fashion. He began to mutter as well, turning sideways as if to leave but pausing when he must have realized he didn't know where exactly he was headed. He glanced back to Ronon, a startled expression briefly flitting his features before settling back to impasse. Then, he looked up to Teyla and Rodney before him. This time he visibly started at their presence, as if noticing them for the very first time. But just as with Ronon, the moment passed, as he seemed to accept the situation presented to him. Eerily enough, it reminded Rodney of someone experiencing hallucinations to the point of accepting them as an everyday occurrence.

Roshan blinked owlishly at them, as if waiting for them to do something, anything.

Rodney and Teyla looked at each other in brief bewilderment before turning their attention back to Roshan.

"Yes?" The man asked expectantly.

"You were going to take us to Risha." Teyla prodded.

A warm smile spread across the man's rather haggard features. Years of craziness would do that to you.

"Risha. Twins. Her and me. Me and her. You know her?"

Rodney rolled his eyes in impatience and knew Teyla was probably mentally doing so as well.

"Let's get past the confusion bit shall we, and move on to the part where you take us to your dear sister." Rodney asserted. He turned to Teyla and spoke quietly. "It's about damn time we get some answers and I'm hoping this Risha doesn't share the same crazy gene with Roshan here."

"What about Ronon? We can only carry him so far. He still does not look well." Teyla's worried gaze fell upon their prone teammate, still lying at the bare feet of the still smiling Roshan.

The abrupt shifts in the man's demeanor was creeping Rodney out.

"Fine. Roshan, how far is it to this sister of yours?"

Roshan only blinked at him, as if awaiting the right command, like a computer. Rodney released an exasperated sigh, his impatience winning over. He was beginning to feel the effects of their extended stay as he felt the emptiness in his stomach consume him.

"Risha. Your twin? Assumingly identical looks save for being female? The one with all the answers? You were taking us to her?" Rodney's voice began to rise as his tirade continued. His finger jabbed pointedly at Roshan as he advanced on the increasingly cowering figure. "I don't know if you've noticed, but we're in a bit of a bad situation here and we could really not waste any more time here splitting hairs over who we are and why we are and all that other cosmic bullshit and I'm really goddamned sick of this heat! I hate jungles and I hate sand. I'm hungry, tired, and I could really go for some good old fashioned Ancient technology, even if it's covered in the worst crud this universe has to offer!"

By now the scientist was face to face with a rather stunned Roshan. Fear danced within his eyes and if Rodney hadn't been so enraged, he would have noticed one was blue, the other green. Rodney glared at the man as sweat trickled down his reddened face.

"You will take us to Risha and you will help us carry our sick friend over there. Now move!" Rodney's voice cracked as he shouted the command. He wavered momentarily, and Teyla was quick to offer a hand at his elbow. She recognized it enough by now to know when the scientist needed to boost his blood sugar levels or suffer the consequences.

Roshan's face was crumpled up as if he were about to cry. His lower lip trembled and his eyes shone bright. Rodney would have felt bad if it weren't for the light-headed feeling he was experiencing. He barely noticed as Teyla forced him down to sit beside a semi-conscious Ronon. She stood at his side and faced Roshan, the epitome of calm.

"Your sister must miss you, Roshan. Let's go to her before she worries." It was like she was talking to a child. But at this point, Rodney figured Roshan had reverted to just that.

Rodney could almost hear the colonel now: the people of this planet were FUBAR. A smile flitted across his pale features. The sweat upon his brow had stopped beading now, not because of the ocean breeze, but because his body was no longer able to produce it. Dehydration. He should be worried. Add to that growing list of concerns was his Hypoglycemia. He was weak, shaky, and felt light as air. He was fading fast.

Soon it would only be Teyla left to fend them. As much as he was sure she was capable, it scared him to the core. Teyla was one strong woman but there were way too many unknown variables harboring their visit to this planet. Some things were revealing themselves at an agonizingly slow rate while others were quickly raveling into larger mysteries. Rodney hated mysteries. That's why he was a scientist…he reveled in untwisting them and turning them into the blaring obvious.

So much for their mission to the holy grail of ZedPMs, chocolate, and coffee! With that last thought, Rodney gave in to his symptoms and succumbed to unconsciousness.

-------o-------

Blearing flashes of light seared his vision. Followed by more darkness. Where was he? Dizziness assailed him. His feet snagged on something hard and the motion ceased as he was unceremoniously lifted from the ground. Sets of rough hands held a firm grasp on his wrists and ankles. He was being carried.

The darkness parading his vision swallowed him whole.

--o--

"I will take care of him."

Teyla's voice, sudden, strong, and close above his head. He felt what had to be her gentle hands upon his arm, holding onto him as if the connection would keep them both safe. Whispers came from every direction.

The air was cooler here. He felt more at ease because of it. His skin was clammy and a deep scent wafted towards his nostrils reminding him that he needed a shower sooner than later. The first vestiges of hunger pangs began to make themselves known as consciousness began to take its hold. And he was no longer moving. It was time for Rodney to wake up.

The first thing he saw in the dim light was Teyla, but her attention was diverted away from him. The second thing he noted was that there was a crowd of crazies standing just beyond them, staring in the same direction as Teyla. Something had them captivated enough that none of them had realized that he had awoken.

A soft groan to his right had Rodney shifting his head to take in the sight of the bruised and cut runner lying shoulder to shoulder with him. It was a little too close for comfort. Pain-filled eyes met his and he grimaced with a small smile. He would have waved, but he was still feeling a bit out of the loop at the moment. Ronon questioned with his eyes, already sensing the tenseness of those hovering beside them.

"Eyes open." A small hushed voice blurted. Teyla immediately directed her alerted eyes to her fallen teammates and smiled in relief. Her eyes, however, emitted warning. Something was happening.

It was then that Rodney noticed that the crazies and Teyla were crouched to the ground, hiding in a cove of heavy underbrush. His skin crawled. Lots of creepy crawly things lurked in dark places.

"You must remain quiet. We are not safe." Teyla explained as she turned her attention back to something just outside Rodney's line of sight.

"What is it?" Ronon's voice was gravelly, as if he was talking through clenched teeth. He was hurting and there wasn't a damn thing any of them could do about it at the moment.

"Fighters."

The three had already learned what that meant. Ronon personally. They remained quiet for another five minutes, time passing slowly enough for Rodney to begin feeling phantom crawling upon his skin exposed to the black soil beneath him.

A rustling of soil on the other side of the heavy undergrowth they hid behind caused them all to tense up, holding their breath. A few tendrils of tall green blades parted at the farthest point of underbrush before them. Something or someone was trying to peer in.

More soil shifted under traveling feet, this time behind them. Heads turned, but there was nothing to be done but wait for the inevitable.

And then Rodney's stomach growled. He couldn't have prevented it if he tried. Everyone stiffened.

Funny thing about timing: sometimes it worked for you and sometimes it worked against you. For at that very moment, a strangled cry, deep into the jungle around them averted the attention of their would-be captors. Hustled feet marched around their position and quickly faded away.

Another agonizingly slow moment of uncertainty, they let out a collective sigh. A few of the crazies stood and weaved through the underbrush that had been veiling them from plain sight. Teyla turned her attention to Rodney and Ronon, her relief clear upon her face.

"There is something you must know. A scout met us on the path with news from the plantations they maintain here. The governors, the men we met in the dome, have taken the caretakers of those plantations hostage…women and children. They've begun to set fire to the trees…and anything else that stands in their way." Sadness filled her eyes.

Rodney must have blacked out once again at that point because the next thing he knew, he was staring up at a jagged overhang of black rock. The air was intensely cooler here than earlier and a light spray of wetness tickled his face. Bubbling, foaming water trickled nearby. He licked his parched lips and turned his head.

A set of eyes was watching him. One green. One blue. The green eye was clouded over: a cataract. Strands of blonde hair fell over that eye as the owner shifted her head. Her face came into view then, pale and delicate. Her gaze piercing, her soft lips permanently set in a thin line. She was observing him as if he were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

Rodney would have been flattered if he weren't so spooked. Pressing his head into the soft ground beneath him, he turned his head slightly to see if he could catch a glimpse of the others. He kept the woman in his line of sight, but in his quick search, he found himself quite frighteningly alone with her.

"What's going on?" He asked in a small voice, his eyes darting now to the small waterfall trailing over a cascade of smooth black stones.

"Do not fear me Doctor Rodney McKay." The woman's voice was strong, deep, and in a very strange way, comforting. Even in his limited perception of her, he sensed an air of confidence in her. She was quite unlike the others they had thus met on this planet.

And then he saw the rest of her body. She wore nothing more than a ragged neutral material that hung loosely upon her bony shoulders. Her pale skin was soft, almost angelic in quality against the contrasting black rock formation behind her. Close to her flat chest, she held her deformed hands; all ten fingers were agonizingly curled tight. Her feet were bare; her toes curled in much the same manner as her hands. As she turned to lift her ear to the breeze, listening, Rodney caught a view of her crooked spine. The deformity sent her neck jutting forward and the arch of her bony spine protruding through pale skin. When she turned back to him, her gaze was focused inward.

Rodney came to the realization that there was something tucked into his right hand. He uncurled his grasp on the object, lifting his head slightly to view it. Similar to a slice of green bamboo, it was nearly three inches long, half an inch in diameter and soft to the touch. He rolled it in his shaky fingers. The action caused a milky white substance to bleed out from the ends.

He looked back to those unsettling eyes and found them zooming back and forth from his face to his opened palm, inviting him to taste.

Rodney wasn't a fool, however. If drinking the water was bad, who knew what eating the local delicacy might do? He was about to chuck it into the nearby stream of water when a hand shot out and grasped his wrist with alarming firmness. His gaze shot back to the woman's, finding her lowering her chin, staring deep into his eyes as if to send him a message through mental capacity.

Rodney looked back down at the substance in his palm. He looked back to the woman. She nodded once, a curl to the right side of her lip the only indication of a friendly smile.

A wave of light-headedness assaulted him, clouding out his vision momentarily. Blinking harshly to keep alert, he brought the substance up to his lip, stuck out the tip of his tongue and tasted. An immediate buzz tantalized his taste buds…it was pure sugar…like sugar cane, only ten times stronger. Rodney was in love. He sucked on the end of the shoot as if it were the last drops of water left in the entire universe. There was nothing more than a spoonful of the sweet sugary liquid extracted before he had sucked it dry.

Opening his eyes from such bliss, he found the woman still staring down at him. There was the faintest hint of a smile in her haggard features.

"Risha?" Rodney hazarded a guess.

It took a moment, but she blinked slowly in confirmation. She bowed her head and shrank away from him then, into the shadows of the rock sheltering them.

-------tbc-------


	7. Bare Feet

_Please be forewarned that for a bulk of this fanfic Sheppard's going to be way out of character. Blame it on the water. ;)_

CHAPTER 6: Bare Feet

The soles of his feet were blistered, cracked, and bleeding profusely. He had been running further and longer than he had ever ran in basic training. Yet his body craved more. The rush of the wind by his face, the racing of his heart, the rushing of blood to his extremities…he craved it all.

And he was getting closer. He could just make out the sound of lungs exchanging air in a hastened pace. Heavy panting. His targets were still running.

Ever since that revitalizing little stop by the river, Sheppard had been enjoying the equivalent of an extreme adrenaline high. He no longer felt pain. In fact, he felt better than he had ever felt in his entire life. Clear. Focused. Any memories of a past life either no longer mattered, or simply didn't exist. His mind was a blank slate.

Vegetation being disturbed disrupted his pace. In the dense forest around him, sounds were oddly amplified. Coming to an abrupt stop, he tilted his head, listening intently.

Two, three…five in all: five grown men, by the heavy sounds of the footfalls. He could take them. Tensing his muscles, narrowing his gaze, he scanned the trees around him, spinning in a slow circle. Clenching his fists, Sheppard allowed a smile to creep onto his face. His eyes flashed dangerously from left to right.

In the wild flutter of a heartbeat, he was surrounded. Five dark-skinned men with bulging chests ragged material draping down their legs, and bare feet. Their chests were heaving, their glares matching Sheppard's. The five stared at him in eager anticipation of a confrontation.

Sheppard made no move, but his eyes studied his opponents. Nothing set them apart from one another…there were only mild differences in hair and facial features. They carried many scars and bruises upon their naked flesh. These were battle-hardy men: probably the last ones standing more often than not.

Sheppard flashed them all a cocky smile, stretching his neck from side to side, bone and cartilage protesting his movement. It was then that he noticed something odd about the third man, slightly smaller than the others, standing a few yards to his left. Upon his bare ankle was Sheppard's knife sheath. It wasn't attached very well as the strap hung at an odd angle with the hilt of the knife threatening to spill out at any moment. His glare traveled to the man's face. There was a menacing glee in the man's eyes.

Sheppard turned his attention to the others, scanning them until his gaze rested upon the very last man's feet. They weren't bare. That man was wearing Sheppard's boots. The strings were frayed and torn to about half the length they used to be. No longer standard issue. That boiled Sheppard even more than the knife sheath. Swallowing hard, his nostrils flaring, Sheppard stole a step forward, keeping all five men within his peripheral vision.

The first strike was surprisingly stupid. The man to his immediate right had swung his fist towards Sheppard's face. Only Sheppard had been anticipating it and ducked. The blow landed in the face of the man who had been creeping up behind Sheppard. This action alone set off an almost comical chain reaction amongst all six men. While the first two began to engage in a fistfight with each other, Sheppard swiped his legs into the man with the knife sheath, successfully knocking him off his feet. The last two men joined in the fray striking at any exposed flesh they laid eyes upon, only to discover that half the time, they were striking each other and not their initial target.

Fists flew. Feet kicked. Mouths spat. Teeth sank into flesh and growls grew deep within achingly dry throats. The heat of the muggy jungle bore down on the men, their slick skin drenched in sweat. The six men fought as animals. Instinct overrode reason. No one was winning. Exhaustion set in and the men began to slow in their actions.

Sheppard sensed this, as he protected his head from another blow directed his way. He was determined to get his knife and boots back, even if it killed him. Yet, he didn't really know why they were so important to him to begin with. Hell, he couldn't even remember when he had lost them. Gathering in as much air as his sore torso would allow, he puffed himself up. With an air of sudden confidence, he rolled to his right and escaped the menagerie. He knew he'd be the only one walking away from this fight.

A muscle twitched underneath his eye. Damn thing had been doing that for the last half hour now. It was annoying. Kinda reminded him of someone familiar…someone whose name started with an…M? Or was it a K? He couldn't remember. Not that it mattered really. That damn muscle twitch was just the thing to set him on edge. His heart raced as he sized up his components. Funnily enough, they were still consumed with each other, beating away at bare flesh, grabbing fistfuls of hair, and biting on appendages.

Just as he was going to barrel his shoulder into the mass of men tangled together before him, something stepped into his vision from his far right. His already abused heart stumbled over itself and he began to pant harder from the exertion it tolled upon his weary body. His mouth hung agape.

He was staring at a ghost. Had to be, anyway, as it was a very familiar man whom had gotten in his way just an hour or two earlier.

Deep hazel eyes bore into him accompanied by a smirk so slimy it made Sheppard's skin crawl. The man stared him down, nostrils flaring.

"They stole your boots _and_ your knife. You're not going to let them get away with that now are you?" The man patronized him.

Sheppard snarled, clenching his fists so hard that his nails began to dig into his sweaty palms. Hot stinging followed by slick trails of liquid told him he'd dug a little too deep. He turned his attention to the still fighting men before him. So far they hadn't taken notice. One man actually stumbled at that moment and fell heavily to the ground. He did not get up.

"Whoo! Ha ha!" The man - his _father_ his mind suddenly supplied - whooped. His father clasped his hands together loudly and bounced on the balls of his feet. He was actually enjoying this. That alone dug into Sheppard's core bringing up such disgust that he lowered his gaze and set it upon those men before him.

With a strangled cry, Sheppard attacked.

His left arm wrapped around the neck of one man while bringing up his knee to slam it into the face of another. He used both men to knock the other two off balance. As those two stumbled, he slammed his elbow into the first man's face, sending him to the ground. The next opponent went down just as easily when Sheppard thrust the base of his palm upward into the man's nose. He could smell the rich copper scent of blood as it spilled and sprayed about him. He could even taste it.

Two men were still standing, attacking with everything they had left in them. The other three remained on the ground; either winded, unconscious, or dead. None of that really fazed the colonel. He focused his rage on the final threats.

Sheppard noticed that one of them still wore his boots. He didn't dare look now, but he was sure one of those on the ground bore his knife and sheath.

A fist pummeled into his right eye and almost sent him sprawling onto the ground. But in his heightened state, Sheppard was more agile than ever. He planted both feet and hands on the ground, using the backward thrust to push himself up and into the chest of one of the men. As the other continued to pummel fists into his lower back, Sheppard drove the man in his grasp forward and into the trunk of a nearby tree. A loud smack sent both the tree and men rattling. The man in his grasp instantly relaxed.

His spine had snapped.

The man still beating on Sheppard was gaining ground and Sheppard fell to the darkened soil bringing up his legs and crouching into a ball. Holding his arms out to protect his head from each blow, he could hear his father cackling in the background.

"Come on!" He shouted in disgust. "Get up you coward! Fight back!"

Anger boiled and rolled within him. He had always hated when his father hackled him like that. The rage consumed him then and he sprung upwards, plowing himself into the final man. He wrapped his arm around the man's throat, holding his body against his own. The man choked and gasped for air. Fingers dug into his arm painfully while the other free hand reached out into nothingness, fingers splayed out in panic. The man was fading quickly. Sheppard began to apply more pressure, placing one hand upon the man's purpling face.

"That's it, my boy." His father called, as if it were a spectator sport. "Twist…twist until you feel the snap."

Sheppard could take it no longer. He was growing angrier, not realizing that he was actually complying. He was out of control. In reality, he did not realize the damage he was inflicting. Not until it was too late.

_Crunch. _

It was a more muffled sound, not so clear and distinct as he thought it'd be. In fact, he had barely heard it over his own hammering heart.

"Satisfying, wasn't it?" The voice was grating into his nerves. He couldn't take it any more. He released the still body from his grasp and it crumpled to the ground.

Spinning around, fists clenched at his sides, he shouted with all his might.

"SHUT UP!!!" Spittle flew from his mouth, his breathing was erratic, and the veins in his neck pulsated. His face was already red from the exertion of the kill.

There was a gleam in his father's eye. Unsettling. When next he spoke, it was a quiet, almost awed voice…approving.

"I knew you had it in ya. Like father like son."

And then, as if his father had never been there at all, he vanished.

Taking in huge lungfuls of air, Sheppard allowed his hateful gaze to fall back upon the litter of bodies at his feet. He spied his knife sheath and boots instantly.

Reclaiming his prized possessions, Sheppard returned his watchful gaze to the forest around him. He listened intently for any more immediate threats and found none. He wrapped his knife sheath around his bruising ankle and buckled it. Next, he gingerly stepped into the worn boots. They were still warm from their previous owner. Sheppard flinched as a distant pain told him his feet were beyond spared from injury.

Wiping his forehead with his forearm to clear the beading sweat, Sheppard reflected on the battle with the five men lying at his now booted feet. They hadn't fought with as much valor as he had expected. In fact, they had already seemed slow and winded. It bothered him but he couldn't fathom why. Even in their lessened state, the men had still fought valiantly. Sheppard licked his lips and smiled a bloody-toothed smile, in anticipation for the next confrontation. He wasn't here to admire fighting tactics.

He was here to kill.

-------tbc-------


	8. Separated

CHAPTER 7: Separated

"There is nothing here for you, Doctor Rodney McKay." Her voice was deep, resounding in the cove of rock they currently resided in. Rodney opened his mouth but found that…for once…he was speechless.

"Everything was destroyed." She smiled, the twinkle of her eyes almost taunting him. She had the answers he sought. But he knew now, from that look, that it wasn't going to be easy getting them.

"Why are you….normal?" He went for the tactless route. "I mean…c..compared to the othe….y..you're not crazy…er than the others. I mean." _Why was he so nervous?_

Her smile deepened and she took a step from the shadows. A flitter of sunlight lit up a few golden strands brushing across her forehead.

"Oh but I am."

The corners of her mouth practically stretched to her ears. Her eyes danced with a fire within than frightened McKay. This was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill psycho, he had decided. No, she was much more special. This was the Pegasus Galaxy after all. Crazy was considered normal here. Anything above that and you turned the other way sooner than later.

"Er…okaaaay."

The next three minutes were filled with a deafening silence and the two of them staring at each other without blinking. A glorified staring contest, that's what it was. Surprisingly, it was Risha who broke away first, her head twisting to the right, her long hair spilling down across her bony shoulder. She was peering out of the very corners of her eyes at the canopy above them. There was a brief rustling, but then nothing. She turned her attention back to McKay. He had taken the moment to rest his back up against the wall of a smooth boulder behind him so that he could be more at level with her. He had been feeling vulnerable, after all, lying there on his back, shaky, hungered beyond reason, and presumably abandoned by his teammates.

"Where did everybody else go?" He jutted his chin out, demanding an answer all the while trying to puff his body up to give himself more stature.

Instead, she rushed on hands and knees, sideways like an ape, and stopped mere inches from his face, staring deeply into his eyes with a look of cold steel. Her breath tickled his face, but he dared not move, instead allowing a small yelp in response.

"Just you and me." She smiled again, her eyes sparkling with playfulness.

Tired of this old charade, McKay decided it was time to change tactic. He would do what he did best. Annoy people. Not intentionally, of course: just make them realize who was superior.

"Great, so I get stuck with ape woman. Fantastic. Really, just makes my day. A planet without technology. Sheppard gets lost. My team abandons me. I suppose next you'll be telling me that we're all doomed and we have less than a day to live." He gave Risha the most nonchalant look he could master, smacking his lips and crossing his arms. She backed off, retreating to her previous spot in the shadows.

"Abandoned."

It looked as if it almost hurt her to say it.

"We aren't the Ancients and they didn't abandon you." Rodney wallowed in frustration.

Risha became silent then, sorrow and acceptance flooding into her expression. She knew this. Rodney could see that now. They remained quiet, sitting there, looking at each other as if trying to figure out how the other one ticked. Minutes passed. The wind buffeted the rocks around them, relieving them from the intense heat of the jungle. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of silence to Rodney, Risha spoke.

"John Sheppard has been poisoned."

Rodney stared at Risha and became momentarily speechless.

"He is your team leader, yes?"

His voice came back suddenly and he dared to lean forward.

"That's impossible. How could you possibly know that? How do you know his name?" His eyes wide, he snapped his fingers rapidly. Risha drew back a few inches, staring at his fingers with bewilderment. "I know! I was delirious, wasn't I? I must've muttered all those things. Ha! See, there's always an answer. A _scientifically sound_ answer."

Rodney gave one of his most endearingly smug smiles. A shadow of something unfamiliar to Rodney passed over Risha's face then and she moved forward to be within inches of his own face. He reared back slightly as she invaded his personal space once again. Her eyes, one blue, one green, bore into him causing him to shiver as if they were the very touch of death.

"I see many things, Doctor Rodney McKay. Many things I do not wish to see. But I always see the truth. I see that you are scared, but you are not a coward. I see that you came here to find answers and power, but you will not find these things. I see that John Sheppard has been poisoned, but he is strong. I see many things, Doctor Rodney McKay."

Even as Risha finished her little tirade, she titled her head towards the sky, as if listening intently to a far away song only she could hear. Rodney's eyes flitted nervously from her to the canopy above. His muscles had gone tense as he sensed things were not as settled as they seemed in the forest surrounding them.

"What? What is it?" He implored, craning his neck and listening as hard as he could for any sound out of the ordinary. All he could hear were the usual forest serenades: rustling vegetation, scurrying little creatures, and way too much quietness for the likes of him.

"He found his boots."

Risha made it sound as though this was a little bit surprising as well as amusing. She smiled at McKay, turning her full attention back to him. Rodney quirked an eyebrow.

"He found his boots?"

"And his knife." Risha added, content with her findings.

'And his knife. How 'bout that. Hmm. Yes, well, you're _really_ starting to freak me out now so I think I'll just be…."

Risha's hand had settled upon his arm as he had started to rise and he stilled his actions, staring back into those oddly clear eyes.

"You are safe here, Doctor Rodney McKay. I will not harm you." Her expression and tone were genuine enough for Rodney to finally relax. She scrutinized the forest around them with her alluring eyes.

"Is there anything we can do?" His question had more implications than one and Risha didn't miss a beat. She shook her head.

"I am sorry."

Risha _was_ sorry and Rodney began to develop a newfound respect for this strange woman. As much as it scared him, he realized that she maintained an intelligence he had never encountered before. It was an intelligence of the very raw nature of the universe: time. She possessed an internal sense toward living things that no other creature could match. He turned his full attention to her now and stared back into those inquiring eyes.

-------o-------

Teyla had set out by herself about an hour ago. Her thoughts drifted to Ronon and Rodney. She had left both men in the care of the "crazies" as Rodney had dubbed them. Taking a swig of "pure" water, gifted to her from these new people, Teyla could only hope that she was doing the right thing. She was the only one left uncompromised in some form or another and someone needed to apprise Atlantis of the situation.

Roshan had instructed her to follow the shoreline, no matter how rugged the terrain or rough the water became. If she entered into the shadows of the bordering forest, she was a target. She was safe on the shoreline.

"White is safe." Roshan had mumbled, while eyeing a woozy Ronon seated against a tree to their left. Roshan felt safe when Ronon was around, Teyla had sensed as much. In fact, Roshan and his clan had decided more by twitches of the eyes and face that Ronon would stay at the beach with them.

Rodney, whom they were unable to waken, was taken directly to Risha. Risha resided in a secret cove known only to the crazies. She would keep Rodney safe. She had healing properties, from what Teyla could discern from Roshan's continued rambling. That man was nervous energy. It unsettled Teyla.

Why they wouldn't let Ronon near Risha also unsettled Teyla. She could only surmise that they were frightened of the man, even in his weakened state. They probably felt safest having him out in the open where they could keep an eye on him.

Teyla moved with grace over a mass of jagged rock, black as night against the contrasting white sand. The rolling waves of the ocean smashed into rock not five feet from her careful steps.

The trek wasn't difficult and the gentle curve of the shoreline told her she had a long way to go. Her mind shifted to Lt. Colonel Sheppard. Where was he? Was he safe? There was little she could do for him now. The only power she had in this fouled mission was to call for help. She couldn't believe the trouble the team had landed themselves in. Then again, weren't they always attracting trouble?

A scent of burning wood reached her nose. She sniffed the air, turning her head towards the direction the breeze was currently rushing in from. She could just make out a faint cloud of billowing dirty white above the tree line. Her heart ached. Somewhere amongst the source of that smoke innocent people were succumbing to its cruelness.

Teyla quickened her pace along the shoreline. By her calculations, she'd be at the base of the mountain within a short shift of the sun…something similar to two hours of Atlantis' timeframe. She refused to allow death to paint this day. She would do everything in her power to stop it.

-------o-------

Ronon groaned.

He was tired.

He was hot.

And he really had to pee.

He shifted, hoping to roll to his right and stand. However, he somehow had forgotten the simple fact that his body refused to do so. Pain rippled across his body from the various abuses tolled upon him.

"Krellnac!" He muttered a cuss in his language.

"Still. Still as rock, you must be." A voice carried from above.

Ronon twisted his aching neck upwards so he could view one of the crazies perched on a low branch above him. There were small maroon pods half the size of Ronon's fist growing from the bark in a few random clusters.

"Who are you, Yoga?" Ronon wrongly repeated a saying he had heard Rodney squeal at one point or another. He shook his head slightly with a smirk: he was spending _way_ too much time with the Lanteans. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Teyla felt similar.

"Yoga?" The crazy repeated, with a curious tilt of his head. The motion made Ronon dizzy.

Ronon wrapped a protective hand around his midsection and grunted as he struggled to get his legs to work. Unfortunately, his body had other plans. His legs were tingling. He didn't think that was a good sign.

But hey, he was a warrior. Ran from Wraith for seven years and before that, lost his entire livelihood. He could handle a little pain. He was a man of action. He did not sit. Not Ronon.

Making another attempt to get up, Ronon failed miserably. A small cry left his lips, followed by another curse.

Observing that his teammates were nowhere to be found, Ronon looked back up to the only person within the perimeter. The crazy blinked down at him with a lazy smile, chewing on the husk of one of those pods. A white gooey substance was pasted across his lips and fingers as well as the pod.

"Rodney? Teyla?"

Short and to the point: you often got answers quicker that way after all.

The crazy's smile broadened.

"Madcrazy with Risha. Pretty going to ship. Pretty. Pretty pretty pretty." The crazy continued to rant that one word over and over, scooping his fingers into the pulpy mass of the pod.

Ronon rolled his eyes. Where was his stun blaster when he needed it? And damn it: he really had to pee.

--------tbc-------


	9. No Mercy

_WARNING: There will be some pretty harsh situations that occur from now on of which includes genocide. Now remember: the entire fic is based on the theme of bitterness, so needless to say, you'll find out how this theme torments the many lives of those simply trying to survive. It isn't going to be pretty, trust me._

CHAPTER 8: No Mercy

Like drops of blood, there were red berries sprayed across a dark green canvas of waxy pointed leaves. A fine white powder had dried in splotches across most of the foliage, the effect most likely the result of a recent rain.

A calloused hand dipped a rolled leaf into the mass of berries, capturing just a few within the enclosure. The hand, smudged from dirt and perspiration, brought the substances up to chapped lips inhaling deeply from a flat, crooked, and bruised nose. The rolled leaf and berries disappeared amongst strings of saliva hanging like stalactites within a cave. The delicacy was swallowed whole.

Drops of sweat intermixed with the powder upon the leaves re-hydrating the fine substance into a milky liquid. Another leaf was plucked from the tree upon which it grew. The fine art of rolling it and dipping it into the berries repeated.

The distant crush of loose stone against loose stone disrupted the activity. Hands stilled.

The nose lifted into the air, breathing in sharply, deeply. Posture straightened from relaxed to alert. An aged face turned and with the flash of dangerous black eyes, sent a warning to those nearby.

There was a scent in the air. It wasn't native.

A smile spread onto the aged face and with little more than the soft sound of leaves whispering in the breeze, several muscular bodies emerged from the camouflage of the forest to crouch beside the first. Battle-aged hearts began to flutter in overwhelming anticipation.

Fresh blood was heading their way.

--o--

There was a scent in the air that had his stomach churning…at least he thought that was the cause. Sheppard darted his eyes to the left at a sudden but insignificant sound. It was a bug of some kind. He ignored it temporarily as the very action of shifting his eyes had caused a sudden onslaught of vertigo. Dizziness prevailed and he found himself reaching out for balance, stumbling on suddenly unsteady feet. Blood rushed in his ears. His heart raced like it was on fire. His vision darkened for only a moment, like a shade had been drawn over his eyes.

And then, everything returned to normal. Or as normal as he could be in this newly heightened state of awareness.

He could hear with crystal clarity…a buzzing little bug in the distance, the babbling of a nearby stream, the leaves rustling in the trees. His keen sense of observation kicked up a notch and he noted the foliage in this part of the forest was much more defined. There were fleshy red berries growing in clusters amongst evergreen leaves in the grove-like trees about him. Intermixing among those trees were taller and spindly ones with large clusters of pods of a palette of oranges, yellows, purples, and reds hanging from the splotchy bark. The trees grew in wild fashion, some leaves and branches fought with others for dominance in the sky above him, thankfully maintaining a refreshing darkness and coolness over the forest floor.

Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he centered himself and reopened his eyes with purpose. Hazel eyes stricken in intensity stared deep into the mass of trees before him. Somewhere, deep within the protective canopy of the leaves, was the enemy. He was so close he could already taste the blood of a fresh kill on his tongue. It wasn't bitter, as one would have thought: it was rather sweet and sensuous.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He rolled his neck and stiff shoulders then tilted his head from side to side. Lowering his chin, he set his deadly glare deep into the forest ahead.

Through stray leaves, buzzing insects, and bushy tails, Sheppard sought out his prey. It was in the briefest of movements, but he finally caught a glimpse. Black, black like the stone beneath his feet. It was a mere shadow, but it spoke volumes. The blackness was moving towards him, snaking through underbrush. There was more than one. There were more than he had ever encountered yet. His heart hammered with excited anticipation. A growl grew deep within his hoarse throat.

Suddenly, they broke into a charging run. There was almost no sound to accompany such ferocity, but Sheppard was nonetheless aware of their rampage.

A feral grin grew upon his face. Digging his heels into the blackened soil beneath, he pounced into action, racing dead ahead into the approaching enemy.

He could see them now: there were at least twelve of them, all reddened with the exertion of which they were extolling in the charge. They were much older than him with heavy wrinkles defining their snarling faces. All eyes were pinned on him.

Just a few more yards and they would clash in a dizzying array of bodies. There was no need for a battle cry. The mere silence of these fighters was more than intimidating enough.

A sudden blaring sound like that made by a conch shell interrupted the charge. All men, including Sheppard, came to halting stop. Sheppard cringed, slapping his hands to his already over-sensitive ears and scrunching his eyes up. He opened one eye to a slit to view a good handful of his opponents mimicking his actions.

The sound diminished just as suddenly and Sheppard turned his fury onto the new threat, as did his foes. Standing not too far in the distance, at the top of a small crest in the forest floor, was a single figure dressed in white robes dusted with soot. There was a single shard of white bone pierced through his nose. This man held an air of importance that was so formidable that it actually seemed to keep the men to Sheppard's left at bay. Sheppard himself was not intimidated, but he was weary. There was something familiar about this man, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

"Fighters. We meet again."

The man spoke loudly and with authority, addressing them all as if they were his brethren. His dark gaze traveled over the faces staring up at him from below. The gaze stopped upon Sheppard and stilled for only a moment. Sheppard caught the briefest expression of shock and recognition before the gaze hardened and refocused to the group at large.

"Please, I must ask of you one final task. Once fulfilled, my fellow governors and I will release you from your honorable and courageous duty to protect the people of Herac. Yes, these words I speak are of genuine truth, my brethren. Indeed, we will release you from your lifelong commitment and you may be free to live as you wish for the rest of your days. All you must do is complete this one final task. That is all I ask."

Once the man had finished preaching (and in fact his hands had been raised as such while he spoke), he clasped his hands waiting silently for a confirmation of orders received.

None came.

The men simply blinked back owlishly, almost trapped in a spell of wonderment. Sheppard sensed they were familiar with this man but nothing more. Some still retained snarls and flashing hatred in the eyes. They disliked this man, yet they did not make any move to strike him.

There was a small, almost imperceptible nod from one of the men and Sheppard shifted his gaze to the man in white. The nod was acknowledged and a devil of a smile played onto the man's thin lips. His mere presence made Sheppard's skin crawl and he wanted nothing more than to crush his skull between his itching fingers. However, something held him at bay: the interaction between this man and the men beside him was captivating. He yearned to know what power this man had to dispel the violence that had been about to erupt between them.

"An enemy has encroached upon our land. This beast of an adversary has terrorized our harvesters and even as we speak, has begun to burn our plantations, _our livelihood_. You must go to the plantations and cease this monstrosity before it can sink its claws into our very way of life. If you should fail, we _all_ die."

As the man finished his speech, his now devious expression fell upon Sheppard.

The look sparked a fire within him that threatened to consume his entire sanity. This man was toying with them all. Probably even sending them to their deaths.

However, he was not of this world. He could do whatever he pleased. At that very moment, it was to strike the man staring intently down at him as if he were nothing more than an insignificant insect.

His fists curled tighter and he turned to face the man head on. The man appeared to stiffen, his intense stare faltering briefly. He took a step backward. The slightest hint of movement from his side and Sheppard grinned deviously back. The men beside him were just as eager to end this man's life as he.

With an intimidating roar, all the fighters, including one very enraged colonel, charged up the sloping ground towards the lone governor.

Shock overcame his smug expression and he turned swiftly to head for safety. In this unforgiving forest, he would find none. With a shrilling scream, the man clawed for freedom, as he was harshly pulled downward.

Wildlife took to flight as feathery wings sent a frantic beat into the unsettled air and padded feet added rustling to the cacophony of death below.

The silence that followed after hovered over nothing more than a mangled corpse and a very vacant section of greenery.

--o—

Fire consumed, but smoke was the silent killer. Screams and choked cries filled the blackened air.

The clearest air clung to the smoldering debris already littering the scorched soil. In gradually thickening and graying layers, the smoke hovered up to mingle with the thinning canopy above. Glowing embers arched gracefully through the air, landing onto their next victim to consume. Sometimes it was a leaf or a branch other times it was a strand of hair or an article of clothing, or even an exposed area of skin. Further into the haze where the smoke was thickest, dancing red and orange tongues of fire burned the fiercest.

Chaos reigned in the plantations of Herac. Groves upon groves of delicate spindly trees intermixed with evergreen-like bushier trees burned with no mercy. Their blackening limbs poised permanently in an expression of agony, curled, gnarled, and reaching for the freedom of the smoky skies above. Women and small children fled for the safety of the deeper jungle canopy, only to become trapped by yet another wall of flame and smoke.

Those still in their homes among the treetops lay crumpled in what had now become tombs. The accumulating smoke from below had crept into the glass bead-like homes suffocating all those within. They never had a chance.

From afar, stood a row of men in white robes. The hazy smoke gathered in wisps to snake in a wide circle around the men, as if frightened by their mere presence. The men stood like stone, observing their work with grim satisfaction.

In their minds, it had to be done. To save the people, they had to terminate them.

In the whisper of exhumed oxygen twenty men barreled through the veil of smoke descending upon the land. Rigid bulging muscles toned by years of fighting deemed these enraged men as a force to be reckoned with. Sweat intermixed with soot upon their glistening skin. Eyes filled only with the gleam of anticipation for the kill methodically searched the fiery scene.

However, they did not see the trap they had fallen into. Their prey fled across their paths, distracting them. They had been trained to strike down the enemy at whatever the cost. So to speak, they did not see the forest for the trees.

The row of governors watched on in chilling satisfaction upon the arrival of the fighters. Their plan was almost complete. When the small contingent of Ancients had returned from the sky, the governors knew it was time to serve their long-awaited revenge. They would take away the very thing the Ancients could not do without: the existence of everything that defined Herac from human to plant to rock.

The fighters narrowed their searching eyes upon the governors, standing far across the fiery chaos separating them. The hatred they held for these governing men originated from the very depths of their souls. They stood poised to strike.

Three ragged women fled between the two forces, with young children either in their arms or trailing behind, desperately seeking safety. Yet there was nowhere to go.

The heat of the raging fire became too intense. In sudden concussive force, an explosion of splintered wood, flame, and billowing smoke interrupted the plight of these people. A massive cloud of gray smoke illuminated orange from its depth mushroomed outwards, enveloping tree, man, and rock in a fine coating of stinging embers, soot, and debris.

Screams pierced the air only this time, the agony was brief. Silence followed all too quickly. Like a secondary explosion, those left standing fled outwards from the source of the blast.

The surrounding air had now become a suffocating blanket no longer tolerable to those still within its clutches. It was a fiery hell with no means of escape.

--o—

Rolling to the ground just as the explosion buffeted the vegetation and fighters surrounding him, Sheppard drew in a lungful of tainted air. He coughed and spat, his lungs protesting every new breath. Dizziness prevailed if only for a moment or two.

Suddenly there were a crowd of crying women and children staggering all around him. He blinked harshly, struggling to clear his vision, searching through the mass of legs, bare feet, and smoldering vegetation. Where were the other fighters? His brethren?

There. They moved as one: stealth amongst the gray. There were a few who had branched off heading in the direction the governors had last been. The rest focused completely on the innocent fleeing about them.

The traumatized harvesters did not seem to acknowledge the presence of the fighters however. The remaining survivors raced for the safety of the untouched forest beyond the flames. If they could make it there, they had a chance.

The fire screamed and twirled. Wind so hot it could melt flesh whipped from the flames. A blinding haze began to settle just at the level of sight for those trapped within the storm.

That was the moment that the fleeing harvesters met their demise. It was neither by smoke nor flame, but by the hand of their fellow man, the fighters.

Sheppard contributed in his part. He struck at flesh without seeing beyond what it represented. He only knew to strike and eliminate the threat. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, fueling his deliverance of death. There was nothing to stop him. The poison that polluted his veins made sure of that.

After striking down another enemy, he sought the area for those men in white. Though he could not fathom the reasoning, he knew they were his prime targets.

A fist slammed into his vision and he stumbled back from the surprising blow. Blinking hard, he stared deep into the glittering black eyes of one of the fighters. In this place, at this time, there were no alliances, no assurances for a life spared. It was either kill or be killed.

Sheppard swung out his right fist to strike the fighter, this one twice the age as he. The man possessed a look of hungered desperation. He breathed in heavily, wheezing from the exertion tolled upon his exhausted body. Sheppard had noted this decline in health before: these fighters were no longer at their best. Something had worn them down: the same something that would eventually wear _him_ down.

The two grasped each other like two tiring boxers, clinging to one another like lifelines. Whoever dropped first would not be getting back up.

Determination steeling his pulsating veins, Sheppard thrust all his strength into hurling his shoulder into the man's chest and charged forward until they both fell over the body of a woman. She was already dead.

The fighter's head snapped back harshly, stunning him. He continued to strike at Sheppard, fists flying in a fury. Some blows made it through while others Sheppard blocked efficiently.

Sheppard grabbed a fistful of the man's thinning curly black hair and slammed his head forcefully onto the ground. Over and over, he repeated this action. He saw nothing but red. And then, when he was sure the fighter would not get back up, he came to a shaky stand and turned.

Two young boys stood not too far away, huddled together with fear dancing in their bright blue eyes. They shook like the leaves of autumn. Sheppard took a step forward, locking his sights on them. He stalked forward with nothing between them but the thin tendrils of smoke enveloping the area. The boys shrunk back in fear.

Sheppard came to a stop, towering over the boys with an air of dominance. He glared down at them. Their young blue eyes traced up his body to his own hazel eyes and widened. They gripped a tighter hold onto one another and visibly paled. They dared not to breathe, even as the air was suffocating them.

A distraction came not a moment sooner. A handful of governors had returned in fevered rage to attack the harvesters getting past the fighters. They did not mean for anyone to survive.

Two fighters nearby had taken notice and had begun to beat upon those governors, with the harvesters caught amongst them, scrambling for safety. Just as it appeared that the governors had overtaken the fighters, another three fighters joined in the queue, beating upon anyone they could to extol their uncontrollable rage. The governors took haste, realizing this fight was not one they could win and disappeared into the haze. The remaining fighters took up the chase. Sheppard felt he must follow and made to turn, forgetting about the boys before him.

That was when he felt his heart stutter and his vision blackened for what he felt was the briefest of moments.

The next moment, he found himself lying on the forest floor, charred remains of those not so lucky smoldering beside him. The haze had thinned and through his blurred vision, he could make out a glaring blue sky amongst silhouetted skeletal branches.

Glancing back to where the governors had scrambled with fighters at their heels, Sheppard found nothing but wispy smoke and dying flame. Grimacing, he spun around to look for any fighters lingering in the haze.

He found something else, not entirely unexpected.

The ghost was back. Somewhere in his memory, he knew this man, but each time he saw him, the last memory would fade like a dream and he would end back at the beginning of this blank slate that was his mind.

His vision doubled for the briefest of moments and the dizzying sensation reached new heights. Stumbling for balance, Sheppard swallowed thickly. What was he doing here?

In his moment of weakness, tears began rolling down his tingling cheeks and he did not know why. He stumbled forward; the pain in his eyes a stark contrast to the stony exterior he portrayed.

"Why?"

It was all he could ask. It was all he wanted to know.

The ghost held his gaze with no remorse to show for the bloodshed that had occurred this day. It stared with a pale face as blank as Sheppard's mind.

Simply stared.

And with sudden sickening clarity, Sheppard recognized accusation in those steel eyes. Accusation for not following through like the fighters beside him had. He hadn't been thorough enough: he had allowed two young boys to escape.

The stare and deafening silence were more than enough punishment to last him an eternity. Perhaps he would get one last chance at redemption. He tracked through the haze, following two very small tracks in the charred soil.

-------tbc-------


	10. Just Out of Reach

CHAPTER 9: Just Out of Reach

Teyla did not give up. It simply was not an option. From the first Wraith attack she had ever witnessed, she had learned what it meant to be a survivor. She had learned to fight for life because it was a fragile gift.

Teyla had sensed from the beginning that the Heracs had not come off easily after the Ancients had left the Pegasus Galaxy. She could relate to what they must have endured in surviving without their assistance all that time afterwards. From what she had seen thus far on this mission was disheartening. The Heracs were losing their battle to survive. They had given up.

Another hour had passed. There was about half a canteen's worth of water left. The shadow of the only mountain on this continent crept up on her. Teyla had been so careful navigating her way over rocky terrain littered with sand constantly berated by thrashing waves that she had not noticed right away. It was only when she realized she no longer had to squint against the glare of white sand that she looked up.

The wind whipped her hair, momentarily blinding her view. When the wind shifted, carrying the strands of sandy hair away from her eyes, she gasped.

There was a faint swirl of smoke rising from the western flank of the mountain, opposite the great dome they had encountered at the beginning of this mess. Her heart skipped a beat then began to race, as if to make up for it.

"Oh no…."

She raced forward, in hopes that the worst had not come to be.

-------o-------

Now that he was properly alert, Ronon was able to assess the damage tolled upon his body. There were long scratches covering his body glistening with drying blood. His pants and shirt were torn almost to shreds that seemed to cling to his sweat-drenched skin. His tack vest had been shredded as well and discarded during the attack.

Large ugly purple bruises were beginning to form around his torso and he was sure there were a few on his face as well. His knuckles on both hands were swollen and caked in dried dark blood. Every breath he took was a fresh wave of sharp pain concentrating around his entire rib cage. It felt as if every bone had been shattered. He was fortunate, he realized, that none had thus far punctured a lung. His left shoulder throbbed immensely and the tips of the fingers on his left hand were beginning to grow numb. He was sure there was nerve damage but he did not think the shoulder was dislocated or he would be in much worse pain.

If he shifted too far to the right or left, a sharp twinge sparked at the lower portion of his spine and his body would stiffen. His legs tingled from time to time and he was sure that the two were related. There were occasional black spots in his vision and every time he moved his head too fast, his vision was slow to catch up, blurring and sending him into a dizzying spin. Even though he feared very little in life, Ronon did not look forward to the vehemence of Dr. Carson Beckett. Witnessing just one tirade the doctor had over Sheppard's last run-in with danger had been enough to abstain one from the threat of injury.

Ronon would have laughed but he just didn't have the energy at the moment. It would seem he had finally managed to get into as much trouble as Sheppard.

And what of Sheppard? Both he and Ronon had been overwhelmed by a large group of ravaged men. Ronon could only recall flashes of fists, snarling teeth, and mad eyes. He remembered Sheppard trying to crawl towards him at one point, but then a foot slammed into his already damaged shoulder and he only saw red. A moment later, he heard an agonized cry from the colonel, and then nothing. That had been the last he saw or heard of Sheppard. Was he dead?

It was best not to dwell on the subject.

He tried to make himself as comfortable as possible, leaned up against a rough tree his legs lay sprawled out before him. A small wooden bowl filled with refreshingly clean water lay beside him. He had taken a sip or two before, but he was still weary. He took in shallow breaths as best he could and focused his tiring eyes on the gentle waves of the ocean through the thin line of trees separating him from the beach.

Ronon worried about Teyla. He knew the Athosian could take care of herself, but the way their luck had played out thus far, he was beginning to second-guess everything. He remembered briefly her soothing face hovering over his, her hand on his shoulder, reassuring him that all would be well soon enough. She had informed him that Rodney had been taken to Risha and that she trusted him to be in good hands. Ronon hoped for Rodney that this Risha could tolerate the incessant chattering of the scientist.

For once, Ronon was helpless. He could not move very far. He could not even protect himself. The feeling was quite unsettling.

He had sensed it for quite some time but only now did he acknowledge the presence of three crazies lined in a row upon a solid upper branch of a tree just to his right. They were staring at him owlishly. Fear consumed them as they twitched at every little flutter of leaf or crash of wave. Ronon would have relished in a little game of intimidation, but he just couldn't summon up the energy.

Ronon found he _almost_ wished Rodney were there to ramble on about _anything_. Unfortunately, all he could do was sit and wait for Atlantis to send a rescue team.

Ronon chuckled to himself, despite the crazies comically starting out of fright. What he wouldn't give for a hive ship and an army of hungry Wraith right about now!

-------o-------

Rodney was getting pissed.

Risha was playing games.

This woman knew things. More to the point, she knew what had happened to Sheppard and quite possibly his whereabouts. He also had a sneaking suspicion that she knew more about the history the Heracs suffered after the Ancients "disappeared" than she was willing to divulge. Particularly when it came to ZPMs and any other such technology they had supposedly been in possession of. However, it was like pulling teeth to get her to actually admit to anything.

Risha smiled devilishly at Rodney from her comfort zone within the cove of black stone. With her pale features and golden hair, she appeared angelic in contrast. Rodney did not smile back, instead staring intently at Risha before speaking his mind.

"The water…whatever is in it…it's not there by nature, is it? Roshan and the others…you've all been poisoned, right? I mean it makes sense really. You came up with a water purification system, quite ingenious I might add, but still, you suffered." Rodney narrowed his eyes, his brain processing at near warp speed to figure this little mystery out. He snapped his fingers and again, Risha startled. It was brief however as she had begun to pick up on his little quarks and even expect them. She adapted fast.

"They tested it on you, didn't they?" He asked, horrified. This was why the crazies, and especially Risha, were the way they were: an experiment gone horribly wrong. Rodney shivered.

"They poisoned you to see if it worked. Unfortunately, they were a little out of their league and you guys ended up with scrambled brains. Pity really. You seem quite bright for your, um…er…well, what I mean to say is, you all function…well."

Rodney trailed off then, thinking hard. Risha had taken a few timid steps forward, watching his twitching face in absolute wonder. She was fascinated by the man who, as of yet, had failed to notice.

"I just don't understand. From what I've seen so far, there are four hierarchies in your society." Rodney held out his hand, fingers spread wide so he could count down his reasoning. "First there are the governors who oversee everything. Second, the protection: the fighters. Then, I'm thinking the women and children of the plantations…the 'caretakers' if you will…they harvest whatever the hell it is you grow there. I'm guessing good ol' coffee and cocoa beans from the information we found in the database on A….er…and finally there's you guys. I haven't quite ascertained your purpose yet, aside from being unwilling test subjects."

His voice trailed off once again as he sat to mull things over. Risha watched him with a small smile upon her crooked lips.

"John Sheppard is angry."

The statement came out of the blue really. Rodney glanced up with round eyes and his mouth paused open in mid-sentence.

"Ah, sorry?" His brow crinkled in confusion. Was she purposefully trying to distract him?

"He bites." Risha giggled softly.

Rodney remained silent, staring at Risha in bewilderment. There was no question in his mind that this woman possessed absolutely no marbles in the sanity department.

"Um, yes. Sheppard…bites. Yes, well, um…where was I?" Rodney scrunched up his face, thinking back to his previous train of thought. Risha took another step forward.

"We all drank the tainted water, Dr. Rodney McKay. Only some of us drank before others." Risha said in a deep tone, her eyes staring deep into Rodney's before shifting and clouding over. She huddled back into her safety amongst the rock face and stared back at him.

Drank before others? Rodney puzzled over this for a moment or two before he came to a realization.

"They didn't stop after you guys, did they? They just kept going until they got it right. Whatever that was supposed to be. That's why there are such variations in social status…the four different hierarchies. The poison affected you in different ways, probably depending on the potency. But what could they possibly hope to achieve? And just _who_ did this to you anyway?"

Risha remained silent, watching him intently. She knew he had the capacity to come to his own conclusion without her assistance.

"Let me guess: the government…yes. Just perfect. For as insane as they seemed, it only makes sense that insanity is a natural occurrence for them." Rodney replied in full-blown sarcasm. Then he became troubled again. "Why, Risha? Why did they do this to you?"

Risha's eyes were downcast. She curled further into her crippled self, if that were even possible for as crooked as she already was. A shiver passed down her spine and her solemnly clear eyes met Rodney's.

"Bitter."

And suddenly, Rodney knew why there were no ZedPMs or any other evidence of technology supposedly gifted to these people. Out of spite, hatred even, the Heracs had destroyed it all.

Damn. They had been doomed from the start.

-------o-------

Teyla sank to her knees, tears stinging her eyes. The smoldering charred remains before her resembled the carcass of one fed by a wraith: except this was made of glass and metal and not of flesh and bone.

The Jumper had been burned in their absence. The surrounding vegetation of the clearing was still a vibrant green. The fire had been deliberate. The culprit had not meant for them to leave.

It did not matter now who may have committed such a terrible act. It only mattered that their only way off this planet, their only way to contact Atlantis and warn them, had been effectively eliminated. A rescue team would eventually come but Teyla knew deep down that it would be too late. The fires had grown larger as she had climbed the steep trail back up the mountainside from whence the team had descended so many fateful hours earlier. Her teammates were in the madness blanketed by a sea of green below her: the calm of the world above was as heartbreaking as that of the chaos below the canopy of trees.

Teyla had felt utterly hopeless not just for her teammates but also for every single soul upon that planet. Thousands of years had undone the fate of these people: thousands of years to engrain a bitter hatred in the wake of apparent abandonment. The Heracs held a grudge that could not have been eased less the Ancients returned in the flesh. And even then, Teyla feared they would have retaliated and struck down those they had stood amongst as equals. Perhaps it was a genetic disposition that had been the Heracs' downfall.

Teyla rose then, breathing in a shaky but solid breath. She would not allow defeat to bring her down just yet. Not until the claws of death had sunk into her very skin. No, Teyla was a woman of action. There was still time to do something. She turned away from the Jumper, heading back the way she had come with renewed haste.

Thousands of years could not erase the pain suffered by the Heracs. But just one day could bring hope that could extend thousands of years into the future.

-------o-------

"Twenty-four."

It had become evident to Rodney that Risha was queen of single-word sentences. Ones so heavily laden with meaning it could take Rodney years to interpret.

"Hours in a day? Well, on Earth terms, anyway…. Favorite number? What?" Rodney cocked his head in exasperation as he rolled another small reed between his shaky fingers. During his earlier unconsciousness, Risha had arranged a neat pyramid of the sugary treats at his side, along with a hand-carved wooden bowl filled halfway with crystal clear water. _Untainted_ water.

"One hundred chosen. Twenty-four lived. Natural deaths they were not." Risha stared meaningfully into his eyes. The gaze was fierce and Rodney found himself wishing to look away. But he couldn't. He was finally getting somewhere with Risha and she seemed willing to give him the information he desired. So far so good.

"Murder?"

"Not all."

That little admission sent a few chills down Rodney's spine. So some of the test subjects had been driven to either murder or suicide. What kind of government would ignore such drastic test results and continue the work they were doing?

"Risha, why are the governors bitter? Why do you think the Ancients abandoned you? Do you not know that they were losing a war to the Wraith?"

Risha perked up at the name Wraith, but there was no fear in her eyes, only curiosity. Rodney paused in noting this.

"You do know of the Wraith then. Not such a huge problem, I'm guessing. Hmm, must be nice. Tell me: why is that?"

Risha only looked at him as if willing him to read her thoughts. Rodney took in a deep breath to hide his frustration and impatience.

"And I thought Ronon was a bad conversationalist. Speaking of which, where is he? And Teyla?"

Again silence. Risha had shifted her attention to the forest around them. There was a troubling look upon her face. Rodney perked up.

"What? What is it? Sheppard? Please don't tell me he's saving some damsel in distress. It'd be just like him to…."

Risha's eyes widened.

"NO!" She shouted with desperation. She cringed and braced herself. Rodney stared on, bewildered.

Then a muffled explosion met their ears.

Risha's glistening eyes met Rodney's.

"No…." She whispered as a tear trickled down her cheek.

Rodney feared the worst.

-------tbc-------


	11. The Dead and Dying

_For those of you wondering when the prologue would come into play…here it comes. _

CHAPTER 10: The Dead and Dying

Fear plagued this day. It was so thick the air reeked of it. And there was the smoke, a whole other matter that was smothering the life out of everything it touched.

The women and children, the keepers of the plantations, were being slaughtered one by one. Some lives were taken by flame, by smoke, and others by their fellow man.

Most of the governors who had sworn to protect both the people and the land of Herac were nowhere to be found. Those few who had been caught in the massacre at the plantations lie dead upon the ground.

The smallest number of the hierarchy of Herac, the crazies, was thriving, but only by their instinct to flee from danger. They cowered in their dark places of solace, bodies shaking like the leaves that hid them.

The largest force to be reckoned with on this day remained to be the fighters. Their numbers were also dwindling but it was not by the very things killing so many of the other Heracs. What was killing the fighters had been pumping in their veins for far too long. Now that they were away from their domain, they no longer were able to supplement their need to replenish themselves through the berries and water of their habitat. Those berries and water contained a natural poison. It was _withdrawal _that would bring death upon the fighters.

Soon, there would be nothing left but ashes and fading memories.

-------o-------

The two sets of small tracks had led him to a small clearing and now he stood staring up into a tree that seemed to stare back.

To his left stood the ghost. Like a fly buzzing around one's head, the ghost would not retreat. He snarled at it.

He looked back up into the tree to find the two sets of eyes that had been so ominously blinking back at him were now gone.

Not that it mattered. They'd been playing this little game of cat and mouse for over an hour now. Sheppard flashed a smile at the ghost.

"Time's on our side, buddy." He said with a dark twinkle in his eye. His gaze then shifted to the trees again, seeking out any sign of the two boys he had been tracking thus far.

The ghost remained silent and still. In the back corner of his mind, this sudden silence disturbed Sheppard. It had not spoken since his outburst. The expression upon its pale face was unreadable. Sheppard could not discern whether it was an expression of scrutiny, disgust, or discontent. Whatever it was, the ghost did not like what it was seeing.

"What, you don't approve?" Sheppard thought he caught a glimpse of movement far off in the underbrush. A moment later, a small brown critter scurried into an underground hole.

Searching the ground at his feet to pick up the trail again, Sheppard noted the continuing silence from the ghost. Taking in a deep breath, he proceeded forward, ghost in tow.

Half an hour later, they had come to another stand still, but this time, Sheppard detected something different. Men were headed their way: many men, racing, growling, and hungered. The fighters…his brethren! He had nearly forgotten them in his mad trek to find his new targets.

Sheppard waited for them in eager anticipation. The ghost at his side stood like an obedient dog.

In a sudden woosh of buffeted air, the first line of men rushed past him, paying him no attention. Realization sunk in and Sheppard knew where they were headed. Like him, these men were seeking the last of the survivors from the plantations: the boys. Sheppard lowered his chin, smiling with the anticipation of the hunt.

He turned momentarily to the ghost, before rushing off to join the fighters in their quest.

"See you in the afterlife, my friend."

--o—

As Sheppard began to overexert himself, a transformation took place. The anger began to dissipate, gradually being filled up with guilt and resentment. Random flashes of memory began to plague his mind, with no meaning or connection to make sense of them. His body was beginning to show signs of the stress tolled upon it as well. His muscles were strained, his lungs were burning, and his eyes were watering.

He needed relief. He needed water.

--o--

Hurried footfalls thudded across the terrain, trampling vegetation to mulch. They were gaining speed in their mad rush towards their unseen target.

Sheppard could almost feel the heat radiating off of the fighters on either side of him. His own heat-ravaged body cried for relief, savoring every bit of coolness to the rushing air beating across his body as he ran.

It was sudden when it happened. He nearly stumbled because of it. The fighter on his right must have tripped on some underbrush. Sheppard slowed, glancing back to see if the man would get back up. When he didn't, Sheppard slowed, turning halfway as others sped past him. They either didn't see the man fall or chose to ignore him. As men rushed past, their gazes focused on a single purpose, Sheppard weaved among them to reach the fallen man. At the moment, he did not know why he cared, but nonetheless, he knew it was the right thing to do.

His heart pounded harshly against his chest. The rumbling of the passing fighters filled his ears. Sheppard breathed heavily as he came upon the man. The next intake of air stalled and hitched in his throat. Unbelieving eyes rested upon the pale features of the fallen fighter. The man's mouth hung agape. His brown eyes an empty void staring up to the sky. Sheppard lowered cautiously to one knee, placing a hand upon the man's chest to feel for life all the while his eyes scanning the fighters racing by to ensure they didn't plow into them. There was only stillness. He blinked several times, disbelief spreading across his hardened face.

They'd left him behind: the men racing all around him. Not a single one had paused. Left behind like a memory to be forgotten. Sheppard swallowed hard, bile rising in his throat.

Another thud, this time ending with a solid crack disrupted his pause and his eyes shot up to witness another fighter lying not too far from the first. Body deathly still, eyes vacant, head connected with a boulder jutting from the soil.

Another man left behind.

Sheppard began to search frantically for reason as each charging fighter passed him by without so much as a glance in his or the dead men's direction. And then, as if in a nightmare climbing to the dizzying heights of madness, more bodies began to fall. Shock paralyzed him and he could do nothing but watch.

One man fell, his feet flipping into the air in an almost graceful sweep. Another fell and the man close behind him came stumbling down as well. That man got up, slowly, and upon gaining speed, never stole a glance back. More men fell, each time, being carelessly stepped over by those whose hearts still beat to the drum of battle.

Without so much as a thought, Sheppard stood abruptly. A harsh impact thrust his shoulder back, but he felt little to no pain and his feet stayed rooted to the ground. He vaguely registered that another fighter had nearly collided with him. He was sure that fighter was still running; face forward and determined.

He felt as if he were in a nightmare, his senses suddenly dimming. His hearing buzzed, his sight blurred, and a tingling sensation rushed throughout his body ending at his fingertips and toes.

A sudden raging fire erupted within, dancing across his veins, passing through his wildly beating heart. Muscles involuntarily cramped and he curled his fingers and arms towards his chest. He released a howl of pain as the agony of it enveloped him, both physically and emotionally. Never before had he experienced such raw sensation of any kind.

The jungle faded momentarily, a black veil claiming his vision. He stumbled, struggling to maintain balance. A thought trailed through his muddled mind then. What if the poison was making its final assault on his body, as it had the men surrounding his feet in the waist-high brush of the jungle? If this was the end, he wanted nothing more than to welcome it with open arms.

In the onslaught of an exhilarating rush he felt a tingling surge of adrenaline course his veins. He felt refreshed, his mind cleared to the point of crystal clarity. He found himself facing the direction the others were headed once more. It was as if there was an invisible hand prodding him forward. He found his body turning to join in the charge into battle without him consciously commanding it do to so. His feet began to move and his focus slid from the dead to the living. The last of the fighters were now clearing the area around him and the air was beginning to settle.

Before he could stop himself, he was running forward into the depths of the jungle. Screams and chants met his ears and he knew those at the front had found their target. His heart surged in anticipation. He was eager to send the enemy to an early grave. Releasing a gut-wrenched cry, he rushed forward.

The dead could wait.

--o--

With no evident source of water to replenish them, the fighters were quickly losing ground. The heat of the jungle was suffocating them.

Sheppard had fallen to the back of the group and was quickly losing the battle to stay upright. His blinding rage that had pushed him forward to join the others had dwindled just as fast as it had begun.

He veered off to the right as a wave of disorientation prevailed. He quickly found himself alone.

He stumbled forward through a thicket of trees. His heart beating so loud he was sure the others would hear it. He grasped at branches and trunks as he forced his feet onwards. He came to another clearing in the forest, this one void of fighters dead or alive. Heaving in a large gulp of seemingly thinning air, Sheppard came to a wavering halt. His vision darkened and he collapsed face first onto the soft blanket of grass beneath him.

The ghost appeared beside him from nothing but the thinning air. The face was familiar to him, but he struggled to put a name to it. He felt a soft touch on his shoulder, but it was more of the sense of pressure than anything.

"Fight it, son."

Confusion settled across Sheppard's face as he blinked heavily, fighting to stay conscious.

His heart stumbled a few beats and the rush of blood came to his ears. Sheppard obligingly gave in to the sweet allure of darkness. A fading smile of content came to rest upon his chapped lips.

--o—

He woke in a clearing, unable to recall much of anything.

After realizing that something was amiss, he took haste and fled, sensing an unknown enemy heading in his direction. The ease in which he was able to sense this was quite peculiar, but he figured there was another time to figure that out. All he knew now was to get to safety, wherever that may be. He ran and ran until he came to a small field of tall grass, wavering gently in the breeze. A slight hint of burnt wood hovered in the air. Sheppard came to an abrupt stop.

There was something lying nearby, still as stone. A body. Sheppard took a few more steps and found another. He walked to the center of the field, turning in a slow circle and came to a shocking realization. He was standing amongst a field of the dead.

Had he been here before?

He felt something oily upon the palm of his hand. Staring down at his hand, he saw a smear of white and green. Where had that come from? His confused eyes traveled to his bare chest, mottled with bruises, dirt, and sweat.

What the hell?

His heart was pounding erratically in his chest and he had the vague sensation of light-headedness.

What had happened to all these men?

And where was his team?

-------tbc-------


	12. Fading Like Stars

CHAPTER 11: Fading Like Stars

Lives were fading like the stars of dawn. Unlike those stars, however, those lives would not return at dusk. The forest fire was beyond control by now, as choking dirty gray clouds of smoke rose into the blue sky above. A thin hazy layer of gray lingered beneath the forest canopy, casting an ominous presence upon an already unsettled land.

The living population of Herac was dwindling. Had the team known the current standings upon arrival, they would have found it steady at a pathetic three hundred. That number was dropping faster that the sun's position in the sky.

The saddest part was they were once a thriving population of well over a million. What had happened to these people since the Ancients left the Pegasus Galaxy? How could one society, seemingly untouched by the Wraith, diminish so drastically?

-------o-------

For the past hour, Teyla had been slowly tracking through the underbrush alongside the shore. It was safer under the cover of the foliage, she discovered. She stood out like the contrasting black of the rock against the fine white sand mingling with it on the beach.

There were three men stalking her silently. She knew of their presence for some time now. Determined, she prepared herself for the imminent attack. There was no way she was going to fail in her mission to return to her teammates. Not on this day.

-------o-------

"Come down you cowards." Ronon called through gritted teeth to the three crazies perched in the tree. His piercing gaze frightened them, and they dared not make a move. Except staying still had always been a challenge for them. So when one twitched, Ronon jerked, faking a move to come after them.

One crazy none too eloquently crashed down onto the lower branches, scrambling for purchase. Wide eyes stared back. A satisfying smile spread across the Satedan's split lips.

"Take me to Rodney and I promise not to kill you." Ronon demanded, taking on a more serious expression. He couldn't promise not to harm them, but he refrained from reassuring them into false ease. Ronon wasn't known for his patience, after all. And these crazies were trying it to the very end.

Ronon sniffed in frustration and churned his lips before finally muttering, "Please."

-------o-------

"Death." Risha stated in a saddened voice of acceptance, her eyes focused downward.

Risha was huddled into the smallest form she could make her body, her arms wrapped tightly around her folded legs. Unshed tears rimmed her expressive eyes as she rose her face to regain eye contact with Rodney.

"What? Where? Who? Is Sheppard okay?" Rodney's heart slammed into his ribcage with alarm. He struggled to stand but found weakness still prevailed. Instead, he edged closer to Risha, noting her cautious reaction as he closed in on her personal space. "Please, just tell me what you know." He begged unlike he had ever begged before.

"White sand. Black rock. Night sky." Risha rattled off in an almost preoccupied voice and slowly enunciating each of the following words: "Ancient touch."

This stilled one Dr. Rodney McKay. Like reading off a recipe handed down through generations and generations, Risha had listed the very ingredients (however abstract in terms) that comprised of one ZedPM. The thought process of this woman was as complicated and fleeting as that of a schizophrenic. Speechless, Rodney couldn't respond.

"They come for me now." Her eyes fell once more upon the dirt beneath her bare feet. Despair plagued her beautiful features and for once, Rodney realized it was an opportune moment to reassure this strange woman in the only way he knew best.

"Not if I have anything to do with it." He puffed an air of superiority and feigned confidence, breaking out a small smile. "I'm a genius after all."

Risha peered at him timidly, a small smile of her own forming upon her lips.

-------o------

Roshan had been quite busy, and lucid, for that matter. Skillfully avoiding the majority of the massive fire plaguing their land, he was currently tracking down the remaining survivors of the plantations. He knew he would have little luck. From the body count thus far, nearly all lives had been claimed. It saddened his heart, but he knew there was nothing he could have done.

After all, his main focus was to protect Risha, no matter what the cost. It had been his purpose since the two of them had learned to walk. Risha, on that note, had been crippled from birth, thus walking had been forever a challenge. But he never saw it that way: her flaw was a blessing and it would serve its purpose some day. He taught her to walk in her own way and to see things that others did not see. Roshan and Risha had always been a team. Nothing would separate them, he promised her. Not even death.

As he stepped soundlessly through the underbrush, he saw a flash of white cloth. He needed no further confirmation: it was a governor. There were probably three left, by his count if none yet remained somewhere beyond the canopy of the jungle. This one, he knew was seeking something very precious, very rare. Risha.

The governor was covered in black soot, sweat pouring down his reddened face in streams, his white robe stained with a myriad of colors…the most disturbing being red. The man would pause every so often, his dark eyes scanning the forest, the haze of the nearby fires hampering his efforts to see potential danger.

Roshan stole a few steps closer to the man's position. This governor would not accomplish his task. He would not allow it.

-------o-------

The first blow struck just below the back of her left knee. She stumbled, but in her years of training, she had grown accustomed to the unexpected. Instantly reacting, Teyla used the shift in balance to swing around and strike the stunned offender across his back.

However, there was more than one offender in her midst. The second struck her across the shoulder blades causing her to arch against the pain. The third offender seized her distraction by striking her across one cheek. The force of the blow caused her to stumble, turning toward the man behind her.

Sheer determination and skill became her savior as she quickly recovered. Teyla struck out at those attacking her utilizing her small size and agility. A spinning kick wrapped the first man around the trunk of a nearby tree. A loud crack could be heard as the man tumbled to the ground unconscious. As she completed the kick, she wrapped an arm around the second man, securing a head lock on him while making a fluid motion towards the third with her free elbow. Her blow planted firmly on the third man's nose, sending him stumbling backwards in alarm as blood flowed freely. The second man within her grasp choked and sputtered for air but she refused to let go. His arms swung wildly for purchase and he kicked at her. Teyla tightened her grip and with a sudden unexpected amount of strength, she shoved him towards the third man, sending both tumbling to the ground.

Breathing hard, strands of unruly hair in her eyes, Teyla wiped the sweat pouring down her flustered face. She narrowed her dangerous gaze down upon the two men struggling to untangle themselves.

She had seen these men before. They wore nothing above the waist, their feet bare. Contoured muscles framed their bodies. They were fighters: the same men that had attacked Ronon and the Colonel.

Like the whisper of a breeze, Teyla disappeared into the forest, racing to reunite with her teammates before she too became victim to the horrors of the day.

-------o-------

"Arghhhhh." Ronon grimaced. After five minutes of staring at his bloody left leg, willing it to move, he finally got his wish. Painful as it was, it was a hell of a lot better than remaining immobile. That was the ultimate torture, in Ronon's eyes: to be utterly helpless and dependent upon others. Not his style. Never was.

The crazies in the tree simply watched him in their odd existence, twitching with the leaves in the wind, muttering to one another. Roshan must've ordered them to keep an eye on the Satedan. Or so, at least that's what he thought Teyla said to him as he was wakening and she took off along the shore so many hours ago.

Where was she? Was she all right? Ronon smiled. Of course she was. He would never admit it, but more than once he left their practice sessions a little worse for wear. That woman could hit.

Ronon decided it was time to practice what Teyla preached. He wasn't going to let a little pain get in the way of finding his teammates and shielding them from harm. Tensing the aching muscles in his right leg, he suddenly bent his knee, sending a twinge of pain racing up his body. Scrunching his face tight, Ronon shifted and tested the muscles of his left leg, repeating the same process over in the same sudden manner. It was pure agony yet wonderfully satisfying at the same time. He was making progress.

-------o-------

Her eyes, one green, one blue, were softer than the sky and sea. Rodney found himself lost in them for only a moment. For the first time, she was allowing him to see the very raw nature of her being and her vulnerability. For everything in the universe, Rodney began to feel an overpowering will to protect this woman at all costs. It puzzled him and awed him all at once.

"They're coming aren't they?" Rodney confirmed, watching as Risha slowly nodded, her lower lip trembling.

"Why do they want to hurt you, Risha?"

She said nothing. Only stared deep into his eyes, making him even more aware of the need to protect her.

"We were strong once. Many lives. The skies and the rocks and the trees crashed together. Then came the poison. Many lives went away. Governors controlled our fates. Fed the fighters poison. Fighters went away too, when no poison remained. Governors made more. Wraith came first time. Second time never again. They died from us." The words spilled from her mouth in a rush, her eyes tearing and her lower lip trembling even more.

Rodney stared in stunned silence, his mouth hung agape.

"The wraith. Th…they're allergic to you?"

Risha nodded once in confirmation. A chill ran down Rodney's spine. The one weakness of the Wraith was as deadly to them as it was to humans. Things quickly pieced together for Rodney.

"Let me just…get this straight. A poison of some kind…from what you're describing…it must've polluted the water. That's why we're not supposed to drink it, isn't it? Maybe it was a combination of things, some type of chemical released into the water during some natural disaster. I'm guessing you lost a lot of people initially. And the effects were probably quite desirable if the Governors preserved it and gave it to the fighters. Probably exhibits some kind of properties that boost strength and stamina. And then the wraith came and found out you guys never really tasted that great to begin with. Perfect. We just found the cure to Wraith only it has the potential to kill us too. What else is new?!" Rodney drew in a breath after his long tirade, his face reddening from the lack of oxygen. Risha tilted her head at him, peering at him in wonder as he pieced together the mystery. For the moment, she seemed to have calmed down.

"Risha. What exactly does this poison do? Sheppard isn't going to die, is he?" Rodney asked, sudden alarm spreading across his features. He did not like the look in her eyes as response. It was a look of despair and regret.

"We can stop this. You have to help me. Please Risha." Rodney begged.

Her eyes shifted to something beyond Rodney and a small smile threatened to lift her frown. Rodney shifted to see what she was looking at and let out a small yelp.

Ronon stood before them, or rather rested upon a tree, out of breath. He smiled at them with his usual charm. Three crazies stood slightly behind him, fearful, yet in awe of the giant standing tall before them. Ronon had dragged himself from the shore to Risha's cove, tracking the way on his own as the crazies followed in wonder. Now, as he rested against the trunk of a tall spindly tree, he was thankful of his years as a Runner. Stamina and determination had gotten him here. And sheer stubbornness.

"What've I missed?" He quirked.

-------o-------

Things were clearer than they had ever been for Roshan. Even clearer than the darkest night sky with all the sparkling jewels he and Risha used to name. His mind was no longer cluttered like it usually was.

The governor was unaware of his approach.

Roshan wasn't much of a fighter. But he had always been clever.

The governor never had a chance.

-------o-------

The heat was almost as smothering as the smoke. Disorientation prevailed as he unsteadily trekked through the haze. His mind was numb, his body screaming from the abuse it harbored from his time on this planet. Screams of anguish and terror echoed in his mind. Paranoia clouded his mind. Someone was following him, he was sure of it.

More screams met his ears and he found himself racing forward, in hope of finding the source…in hope that he would be able to help. He crashed through the vegetation and entered into another clearing, his face showing the desperation he felt.

There was nothing there. No one. He was chasing ghosts.

Smoke entered his nostrils and he inhaled without intending. Heavy smoke entered his lungs: his eyes stung as his lungs burned. He coughed and spat. The crackle of fire brought his attention back to the forest around him. Wild tongues of flame danced in every direction. He was surrounded.

Panicked, Sheppard raced through the flames without a second thought, believing he'd find relief on the other side. No such luck. He encountered a thick wall of black smoke that sent him stumbling back towards the searing hot flames behind him. The world began to spin dizzily around him and he could no longer tell reality from hallucination. He fell as his body refused to support his weight any longer.

Slowly, he raised his eyes upwards. There amidst the fiery orange, was the one ghost that he thought had vanished for good. It stared at him, its mouth moving. Yet the only thing that met Sheppard's ears was the incredible roar of flame.

He lowered his head to the ground in defeat. Cool black soil and a fine gray dust…no…it was ash. He blinked, trying to clear his foggy mind.

Then nothing but silence and a refreshing wave of cool air that brushed gently across his bare skin.

The fire was gone, so was the smoke – but not the heat. He was insufferably hot. He was lying flat on the ground, the towering green canopy above obscured by a thick gray haze. There was nothing to meet his ears but an eerie silence.

This was his reality. His heart would race one minute, then slow to a crawl the next. His skin crawled as well, feeling clammy and slick. There was a slight tremor threatening to overtake every muscle in his body. A throbbing pain began to announce itself in his left temple. Every inch of his body felt bruised and broken.

What the hell had happened to him?

It didn't matter. Sheppard had to find his team. He rolled over onto his stomach, grunting with the effort. Digging his fingers into the dirt, he pulled himself forward, inch by inch.

-------o-------

Teyla stumbled into a clearing, gasping for air as hot sand sprayed away from her feet. She rested her hands on her knees, gathering in air until she recovered enough to stand upright.

A sound…rather out of place on this day…floated to her ears over the pounding rush of blood. Laughter. What was even more peculiar…it was Ronon's. Eyes narrowed in question, Teyla followed the sound, coming upon a thick wall of branches, vegetation, and black rock. She followed the wall until it grew thinner and the sound of babbling water became evident. Voices filtered into her ears and her heart warmed. Rodney.

She stepped around a large tree and came to face a small clearing. There were several people gathered around in a circle, huddled beneath a large cove of black rock. Ronon sat beside Rodney and Risha sat facing them. Three others, crazies as Rodney had so dubbed them, stood off to the side, watching the three on the ground with captivation.

A smile on her lips, Teyla stepped forward.

"Rodney. Ronon." She gasped. It was still a task to catch her breath in the overwhelming heaviness to the muggy air.

Her two teammates smiled and beckoned her forth. She came and cautiously sat, her eyes trained upon the others now staring at her intently.

"Teyla." Ronon gave her a nod. She returned it.

"Teyla! Thank god! Did you talk to Elizabeth? What's their ETA? Did you tell them to bring Beckett?" Rodney rattled off but Teyla brought up a hand to silence him.

"The Jumper was destroyed. Someone burned it. Therefore I was unable to contact Atlantis. And there's more: I was followed on my way back. We are not safe here. We must find the Colonel. Perhaps if we returned to the dome where there is sufficient shelter and visibility…."

"You are safe here." Risha interrupted.

Teyla shifted her gaze to the woman, who only stared back.

"Roshan!" A voice called in distress. Everyone turned to look as on of the crazies pointed to a figure emerging from the vegetation.

An ashen-faced Roshan fell to the ground beside Risha and the others, his body quaking with tremors and his skin slick with sweat. His unfocused eyes roamed lazily until they locked upon a frightened Risha.

Risha screamed a terrible shriek that had those in the vicinity covering their ears momentarily. She scrambled to her brother and grasped at him, bringing her face close to his as tears began to fall from her eyes.

Roshan's breath stuttered in his chest, causing him to draw in desperate gasps of air. His fists were clenched though he managed to cling onto one of Risha's, pulling her even closer.

"For you, dear sister." He whispered in a hoarse, pain-filled voice.

His last breath was spent. Risha released a wail, clutching her brother close to her heart and sobbing into his chest. One fist fell to the ground beside her and uncurled slightly.

Rodney and the others caught sight of a small shard of white bone. The sight of it sickened them all.

Risha stilled when she saw it.

"The poison." Risha spat bitterly. She backed away from her dead brother as if he were the very thing itself.

In a way, it was: it had tainted his body by accident. Life was cruel that way. He had meant to kill the governor by the very means used against the people of Herac. Only in the struggle, Roshan had exposed himself to the poison as well. His death was not without honor however, as he had effectively ended the governor's life with a potent dose.

Tears still streaming down her face, Risha turned to the Lanteans. An unfathomable rage hardened her once angelic features. She growled through gritted teeth.

"We must leave."

-------o-------

One last governor remained on Herac. The most dangerous of them all, it turned out. He stood in the center of the dome perched high above the peril of the forest below. The smoke from the fires now tainted the sky and the view from the dome.

This did not matter. Not anymore. This was his last day. It was the last day for all.

The governor was determined to end it now, his way. He activated the dome.

A shimmering light danced across the smooth glass, collecting to the very top. A burst of light streamed upwards, into the atmosphere and beyond where eyes could follow.

The message had been sent.

It was only a matter of time now.

There was one final thing he wished to see to personally. He left the safe confines of the dome and entered the smoky forest, heading for the shore.

He knew where the woman lived. He knew everything about her. He knew about her twin, about their water purification system. It had been his duty since his first day as governor. A duty passed down from generation to generation.

_She_ had been the start of this. _She_ had destroyed the people of Herac. _She_ had to die.

-------tbc-------


	13. Underneath the Veil

CHAPTER 12: Underneath the Veil

"Bloody hell."

Entering through the atmosphere of the planet, the first thing that greeted them was a massive sea of blue. A single island dead center in the horizon before them became apparent by a frighteningly dark mushrooming cloud of smoke. The smoke trailed from the island into a line that trailed for miles upon miles across the ocean.

"Any bets on whom started that one?" Major Lorne tried to joke. No one laughed in the tense atmosphere of the Jumper. Two more Jumpers flanked theirs on either side. The ships immediately cloaked as they drew closer to the island.

"Let's hope we're not too late." Beckett murmured.

"Oh this can't be good." A Marine groaned from the copilot's seat. The others crowded around him in peaked interest to see what was displayed on the HUD before them.

"What is it?" Beckett asked, though knowing the answer wasn't one he wanted to hear.

"By current count there are…two hun…one hundred ninety…ninety-si…no five." The marine paused, then continued. "One hundred ninety five people left on this planet." The Marine looked over briefly from his intense study of the LSD then back to the display again. "And it's steadily dropping, sir. We have to do something."

"Bloody hell! There were one million recorded in the database. What the hell did Rodney do now?"

"Come now, Beckett. It could just as easily have been Sheppard. Or both." Major Lorne joked half-heartedly. Deep down they all feared their words rang true.

Beckett gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. From the repeated hails there had been nothing but static. For all they knew, Sheppard and his team were dead. But knowing the colonel and his track record, Beckett wasn't about to give up. Atlantis had made them all resilient, positive to the end, and stubborn as mules. They had survived three years in the Pegasus Galaxy. That was in itself impressive.

As the Jumper dipped lower toward the ocean surface, they could view the outer edges of the island in the horizon. The singular contour of the land jutting out like a sore thumb captured their attention. A single spire of smoke drifted from one end of a tabletop mountain while at the other end, a shimmering beam of light pierced the sky from its hidden source.

The pilot flew them closer, lowering to circle around the mountain. They came suddenly upon the half dome. The beam dissipated and the dome clouded over in a dark haze. Puzzled, the team glanced at one another in wary anticipation. Smoke filled their view screen momentarily as they flew through layers floating upwards from the burning jungle below. They came to the other side of the mountain to view the source of the smaller fire there.

"Is that…?" Beckett trailed off, looking to Major Lorne for confirmation.

"Crap." Came the reply.

A mangled metal form was all they could see left of what was once a Puddle Jumper.

"Looks like a landing pad, sir." The pilot informed Lorne.

"Well, they didn't crash, then, sir." A marine surmised.

"Great." Major Lorne replied in full-blown sarcasm. With a grimace, he looked to Beckett. "Why do I get the feeling finding our guys will be a needle in the haystack, doc?"

"Aye."

"Positive note, sir, is that the jungle is probably too wet for the fires to last long…they'll burn out as soon as they run out of fuel. I suggest we set down near the landing pad and set up base there."

Major Lorne considered the suggestion before turning to the co pilot.

"What's the reading on the life signs, Lieutenant?" He asked.

"Holding steady at one hundred fifty."

Major Lorne glanced at the Lieutenant with raised eyebrows.

"What the hell is going on down there?" Beckett exasperated.

"We'll find out soon enough, doc." Lorne replied before turning back to the Lieutenant. "Give me exact locations on those life signs. See if we can hone in on our guys. With any luck, they won't be separated."

"Yes sir." The Lieutenant studied the LSD, punched a few controls on the console before him and studied the display before responding further and pointing at he spoke. "Looks like we got lucky, sir. A majority of the life signs are gathered along a stretch of forest here. A single life sign is traveling towards them from this area...and there is a small gathering of life signs just at the edge of the shoreline, about 3 kilometers from our position. Could be our guys. I suggest we take a Jumper and land here, save us some time."

"Good idea." Major Lorne tapped his radio so that the men in the other Jumpers could hear his command. "I want one Jumper here at the landing pad, another in the air monitoring our positions. We'll continue on and land at the shore opposite our current position, understood?"

A hail of "yes sirs" followed his command over the radio. Major Lorne checked his weapon, his action being mirrored by the rest of the marines in the back of the Jumper. He looked up, finding Beckett staring at him intently.

"What if it isn't Colonel Sheppard and his team?" Anxiety played across the doc's face, his fingers curled tightly upon his knees.

"We'll worry about that when we get there, doc." Major Lorne supplied and then smiled. "Though I'm sure they can take care of themselves. After all, this must be what, the_ fifth _rescue mission we've been on to retrieve them in this past year alone?"

A wave of chuckles met them from the cabin in back. Beckett allowed a smile at that comment.

"Aye. They must be going for a record."

At this statement, Lorne smiled, a twinkle in his eyes.

"That would be just like them, wouldn't it?"

The Jumper broke away from the other two and eased over the charred remains of trees, through hazy lingering smoke, and on towards the opposite side of the continent. As they neared the shore, with the lazy waves lapping onto blazing white sand, they noted more life signs dropping from the HUD. Yet the small number near the shore remained thankfully steady. The pilot discovered that the nearest location to safely land was half a kilometer from the small group's position. The Jumper landed smoothly, and silently, upon the sand and the passengers quickly prepared to exit.

With hope, they wouldn't have to search too far. The only fear they held was whether Colonel Sheppard and his team were still alive.

-------o-------

Inch by inch he crawled. Dirt and blood intermixed underneath his fingernails. There was but one thing on his mind: find his team.

Amazing how the mind worked for he did not feel the agonizing pain that should be overwhelming his body. The pain that did exist was distant, as if like a fading song you couldn't quite grasp the words from. So inch by slow inch, Sheppard crawled forth.

-------o-------

Gray ash beneath their feet softened the sound of their advance through the outer trees of the jungle. Their progress was slow.

"Doc." Lorne's voice called from a distance. Something in the soldier's voice had Beckett rushing further into the trees, away from the beach. Scorched shrubbery scratched at his legs, some of the branches still hot to the touch. The search party surmised that the fire had passed through not too long ago and had most likely burned itself out.

"Oh god." Beckett gasped, stopping short before the kneeling soldier, staring down at a burned corpse. It had been a child.

Lorne nodded and glanced around them, his eyes haunted. Noting the look, Beckett slowly turned in a circle, observing his new surroundings for the first time. The scorched ground was littered with burned corpses. Some were smaller than others: most appeared to be adults.

"What happened here?" A marine asked from behind him, his voice soft. They had stumbled upon a gruesome find and each of them hoped Sheppard and his team had not succumbed to the same grisly fate.

"None of these are our guys." Another marine called off from a distance.

"How do you know that for sure?' Beckett asked, heading in his direction.

"Well, for one," The marine straightened from the body he had been observing to face Beckett. "No dog tags. Two, none of these people are over five feet tall. Teyla Emmagan stands at five foot four, if I'm not mistaken, doc."

Sweat dribbled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. It was a struggle to breathe in the mugginess of the jungle, and even more so now that a thick layer of haze hovered all around. It could have been a trick of the eyes, but Beckett swore he saw movement in the haze. Ghosts? He shook his head briefly: he knew better than to believe in such things.

"The LSD shows one hundred three and steady, sir." Another marine informed them as he studied the device. By now, it wasn't much of a surprise as the number dropped in sporadic amounts.

"And our guys?" Lorne asked, glancing at the man.

"They're on the move, sir. Heading towards us." The marine answered.

Beckett and Lorne exchanged hopeful glances.

"All right. Let's set up a perimeter and let them come to us, shall we? I don't like the looks of things here and the sooner we get off this planet the better." Lorne ordered.

"Sir!" A third marine emerged from a tangle of blackened tree trunks and spindly limbs. He held a blackened and dented canteen in his hand, reaching out to give it to Lorne as he stopped before him.

"Where'd you find this?"

"A dried stream bed about fifty yards back." The marine tipped his head back towards the way he had come.

"Perhaps they left in a hurry?" Beckett offered as an explanation.

"On a planet that's hotter than the Sahara desert? I don't think so, doc. Someone left that behind for a reason." Lorne surmised, moving forward to take the canteen from the marine and examine it up close.

Beckett glanced up at their surroundings, searching the trees with his eyes as if he'd be able to spot the team approaching.

"Aye then. We'd better find them."

-------o-------

He came upon babbling stream. Funny how the slow trickle of water could appear so innocent. It was murky, however, carrying traces of ash and debris from fires raging far from his position.

He licked his chapped, sore lips. He was tired. He was thirsty.

It couldn't hurt to take a sip, could it?

-------o-------

Like the sun unveiling after the menacing clouds of a thunderstorm, a familiar face emerged through the haze. And just as quickly, more faces, though strange and unfamiliar, came forth. The toll of the day rested heavily in those faces. It was a story that was better left untold.

Beckett rushed forth upon the sight of Teyla and Rodney supporting an injured and exhausted Ronon. Lorne and his men lowered their weapons, but remained in a tight perimeter around the newcomers. They were bedraggled, eyes widened in fear, hovering just beyond smoky rays that lit up the clearing of the forest.

Teyla approached Lorne to brief him on their situation while Rodney none too gently fell onto his butt beside Ronon. Neither noticed the blanket of ashes they rested upon. Their dazed expressions fell upon Beckett as he knelt beside them, medical kit in tow.

"My God, what happened?" Beckett asked, his hands running along Ronon's left leg, along a large gash. Dried blood intermixed with dirt but at least the wound was clotting. Beckett tsked as he found more and more evidence of abuse done to the warrior. Ronon hissed occasionally, but from the drowsy look to his eyes, there wasn't going to be much explanation coming from the man.

Beckett glanced at Rodney, his eyes scanning the man for obvious injury.

"Rodney, are you all right?" He asked as he applied gauze to a gash over Ronon's left eye.

Rodney blinked a few times, his eyes flashing in every which way before settling on the doctor's. He swallowed a few times, looking sickly pale.

"No, Carson, I'm not all right." His voice trembled as he spoke. His gaze fell upon a pale woman huddled amongst the group of strangers hovering nearby.

It was the first time Beckett took notice at the deformity this woman suffered, causing him to pause briefly before switching his gaze back upon Rodney. Rodney took a moment to gather his self before regaining eye contact.

"Rodney, where's Sheppard?" He was almost afraid to ask, for the team to be in this state was frightening enough. His stomach plummeted when Rodney stilled at his question.

"It's bad Beckett. We have to find him."

There was something in Rodney's eyes that made Beckett pause. Genuine fear but something else lay underneath the mask. It took him a moment to realize what it was.

Resignation. Rodney thought Sheppard was already dead. He turned to look into the faces of Teyla, as she spoke to Lorne, and Ronon, as he watched through heavy-lidded eyes. He couldn't deny it any longer: they all had resigned to the same conclusion.

He took a deep breath, swallowing hard.

"How do we find him?" He sighed. Rodney turned to the pale woman, as did the strangers surrounding her in silence.

In response, a manic smile spread across her pearlescent face. Mysterious eyes met Beckett's, sending a twinge of uncertainty and discomfort throughout his body: one green eye, one blue and just a touch of sanity.

-------o-------

He knew he shouldn't drink it. He couldn't really recall why. But he had no choice. Dehydration was taking its toll.

On the other hand, he'd gain enough energy to track down his team and hopefully get the hell off this planet. He could let Beckett worry about the consequences.

So he drank.

--o—

Tremors raced through every muscle, his heart drummed like it was on fire, and every intake of air felt like it was his last. But he was alive, more alive than he had ever felt in his entire life.

He was racing through twisted, gnarled black limbs. Ashes and bones hampered his hurried steps but nonetheless he remained afoot. There was a mass of bodies all around, but he didn't seem to notice.

He smelled fear. His target was near. There was one final task that demanded his attention. There were tracks, faint, but there. He snarled in anticipation.

A whisper of fabric, the turn of a head…he heard every detail. Not too far ahead now. He was closing in.

The adrenalin coursed through his veins. Breathing in hard, he screamed, charging through the veil of smoke before him.

There standing before him was his prey, eyes wide, fear evident.

-------tbc-------


	14. Rage

_WARNING: there is death of children in this chapter, but it is not depicted as it happens. _

CHAPTER 13: Rage

Sheppard stumbled to a halt, shock temporarily freezing his beating heart. There was his prey, lying in death, with none but the reaper himself standing above them.

The reaper spoke, his teeth sharp and his smile littered with the dirt of his evil deeds.

"You are already dead, my friend. The Wraith are coming. Yes, I know of the Wraith. They do not like us Heracs. No. They find us unappetizing. It's the poison: the key to our survival since you Ancients abandoned us. You did not care for us, you never did. We suffered greatly in your absence. You could have prevented it all." The reaper stepped closer, its rotten breath gracing his sweat-drenched face as it came to stand inches from him. "Your friends, the Wraith will find them most palatable. And as for you: I shall find great joy in taking your life."

A bony hand wrapped tightly around his neck, sufficiently cutting off his air supply. Gasping and choking, he wrapped his own fingers tightly around the hand, prying with all his might to unclench it from his neck.

Eyes of fury burned into his. Spots invaded his vision but more disturbing was the sight of tiny black insects, scurrying across the yellowed incisors of the reaper. A chill that had nothing to do with temperature crawled up his arched spine.

He couldn't seem to gather enough air. His lungs screamed in its absence. Reserved strength saved him then. He managed to wriggle himself free of the reaper's grasp. In one swift move, he thrust the base of his palm upward into the nose of the reaper, bone shards snapping and crunching under the force. The reaper's enraged face snapped backwards.

Sheppard stumbled back a few steps, gathering in as much air as his aching lungs would allow. He had won that round.

--o--

They trampled through the undergrowth: it was thicker here than any place they had encountered thus far on this forsaken planet. A blanket of black smoke hovered above the canopy, blocking out nearly all daylight. It was an eerie twilight-like trek through hostile territory.

And then, the smoke above filtered away and rays of promising light broke through. They came to a clearing by a babbling brook of murky water upon black stone.

They were not alone.

--o—

The reaper stared him down. Its face was stony, eyes flashing dangerously.

Suddenly there were others…the fighters had returned. Were they not all dead by now? Fists clenched and unclenched, muscles held rigid, and wild strands of hair shook as the last of their adrenaline pumped through their tired veins.

--o—

Teyla let out a strangled cry. Ronon growled. McKay let out a small shocked "oh". Carson swallowed harshly, tears springing to his saddened eyes.

Two very young boys, not past the age of eight, lay side by side upon the blackened ground. Skin unnaturally white; bodies unnaturally still. A stout man, dressed in white with a bloodied bone-pierced nose, stood above them, his hands dirtied with the blood of the innocent. His gaze was fixated intently upon another man pacing wildly back and forth, just a few arms length away. It was the one man they had been searching for all along.

"Sheppard."

--o--

There were four of the fighters, with many more remaining in shadow beyond them. The men stiffened and stopped in their tracks, standing in a row to face him.

The reaper was distracted by their presence. Sheppard stole the opportunity.

In a swift rush of air, he was upon the reaper, forearms wrapped around his throat, one hand pressed against its pale face. His gaze settled upon the fighters staring back at them.

With a quick thrust, he released his grip on the reaper. It toppled to the ground with a solid thump. Smiling, eyes lowered devilishly, he turned his rage onto the fighters standing silently before him.

--o--

The pilot's gaze was distant, his chest was heaving in an unnatural rhythm, and his hair was more messed and unruly than ever before. Sheppard looked on the verge of collapse. But the anger that was palpitating from him was so intense Beckett and the others found themselves cringing and taking a step back.

--o--

Sheppard maintained eye contact with the fighters as he approached them, calculating which to take out first.

--o--

Ronon made to move towards him, but both Teyla and Carson held out an arm to block his advance.

--o--

Sheppard stopped his advancement suddenly. His gaze faltered and landed upon the two young boys lying amongst the ashes.

--o--

It was at that moment that McKay and team saw something snap within their leader.

Sheppard stared at the corpses for nearly a minute, his jaw clenching harder and harder.

--o--

The fury within consumed him. His upper lip curled and his nostrils flared. His dark piercing eyes met those of the fighters. A growl grew from deep within and he charged forward.

--o—

Rodney was frozen in shock. Sheppard was attacking them. His clouded eyes were cold and angry, seeing a threat where there was none. Teyla and Lorne did their best to defend the blows, as surprisingly strong as they were, without causing further harm to the colonel. Even Ronon tried to jump in to help, though Beckett once again held him back. The good doctor himself, face cringed in anxiety, sought the right moment to jump in to intervene in any way he could.

But all Rodney could do was watch. His best friend was out of control and once again there was nothing he could do.

--o—

Rage consumed every part of his being. Nothing was familiar in this cruel existence. As cold as this world was, his most basic instinct to survive would not allow him to succumb to the overwhelming exhaustion plaguing his body. He threw punch after punch, kick after kick. He felt little to nothing from the return abuse, if any. He was on autopilot now. He would fight until there was nothing left to fight.

When he struck something solid and he could not retreat his outstretched arm, he glared at the target. Only the target was staring back at him, fierce, but soft. It grabbed a firm hold on his arm and he braced himself for whatever attack it intended to inflict. Instead, the target placed his arm over his shoulder and another arm snaked around his waist. Shocked, he struggled to find release.

--o—

The feral eyes turned towards them. Breathing heavily, as if each breath was a struggle for his lungs and heart, Sheppard wavered.

"Colonel Sheppard? Are….are you all right lad?" Carson shifted, craning his neck to try to gain some kind of connection with the man.

The colonel's eyes were focused on something just over his shoulder. The others noticed it too, and glanced back. There was nothing there.

"He's hallucinating."

--o--

Voices called to him. He thought he should recognize them, but his heart was beginning to send piercing pain through his chest and his arms were going numb, especially the right. For a moment, his gaze fell upon the bodies lying at his feet. Dead eyes pierced through him. He felt himself listing to the side, hands reaching for him just in time to gently lower him to the ground.

His gaze returned to the hazy blue sky above. Faces peered down at him. He should recognize these people but effort to do so was incredibly exhausting. His heart was racing, his body quivering. Hands were on him, reassuring him. He felt no fear now. His heart began to work harder, the beats coming slower but more forcibly. An enormous pressure descended upon his heaving chest. He found himself gasping for air for the second time in mere minutes.

--o—

"Rodney, my medical kit, please." Beckett urgently called out, reaching without looking. His gaze was trained on the colonel's eyes, which were shifting unsteadily from left to right, searching for something to anchor him to reality.

"Is he going to be all right?" Teyla asked, her voice soft yet unsteady.

"Colonel?" Beckett tapped Sheppard's cheek, vainly attempting to gain eye contact. "Colonel, please talk to me."

The colonel's eyes were glassy with pooling wetness gathering in them. Beckett glanced up at the others gathering around them. His concern was parallel to theirs. This wasn't good.

--o--

Silent tears streamed down his reddened face. His eyes were vacant: his expression broken. He lay limp, the fight in him gone. The air was simply becoming too thin: he couldn't breathe. His head twisted to the side so that now he had an unobstructed view directly into the two children's forever still faces.

Just beyond them was another face he hadn't seen in quite a while: his father. The translucent face was barely visible, but the expression was everything.

Disappointment.

--o—

Try as he might, Carson couldn't even get the colonel to acknowledge their presence. His vitals were alarming: they needed to get him back to Atlantis immediately.

Yet none of them realized how critical the situation had become. The man they had come to know had retreated to a place where nobody could follow.

John Sheppard was lost.

-------tbc-------


	15. Bittersweet Parting

_**SPECIAL NOTE: It seems a few people were confused over the weekend with this fic: I edited previous chapters to clarify things and rid of mistakes. I also deleted a chapter, which was really an author's note, hence the reason why there are now 14 chapters when it previously said 15. **_

_**I also updated with a new chapter, Rage. And the day before that, there was the new chapter, Underneath the Veil. Sorry for the confusion. I didn't realize until after the fact that you can simply reload chapters. My mistake was to delete all of the old ones and replace them, hence the numerous chapter alerts sent out. Again, my apologies for any confusion. I know I said I would post chapters daily, but because of this confusion, and the disappointing lack of reviews, I'm going to postpone, sorry. **_

**A/N: **_The latter half of this chapter has sections in italics. These sections will be the voice of Risha as she narrates the history of her people. Also note that all previous chapters have been reloaded and revised. :)_

CHAPTER 14: Bittersweet Parting

The third Jumper was at an odd slant with a third of it concealed by water. A few of the natives were giggling as they pointed at it. Major Lorne grimaced. Should have known better than to park on a beach on a planet with three satellite moons: the tide was bound to be a bit trickier and unpredictable. In his haste, he hadn't thought of the consequences of parking on such unstable ground.

He was pretty sure Dr. Weir wouldn't appreciate _another_ Jumper lost on a mission.

The other two Jumpers and their crews had been recalled to their position to pick them up and take them home. They sat side by side, each with the back hatches open wide.

"Sir." A marine standing beside him held up the LSD in his hands to show the major what was on screen. Lorne exchanged a look with the marine before turning to the others.

Sheppard lay barely conscious on a stretcher upon the white sand, oxygen being pumped into him via an ampu-bag operated by another marine. Ronon sat beside him, beyond exhausted. Teyla and Rodney stood by, exhaustion revealing its toll across their features. A small gathering of natives hovered at the edge of the sand, their faces hidden in the shadow of the jungle just beyond them. Beckett stood to face Lorne.

"The sooner we leave, the better."

"Right, doc. There's something you should know." Major Lorne replied, lowering his voice as he stepped over to the doctor. What he had to say, he did not want to be overheard by the natives. And quite frankly, from the haggard expressions of Sheppard's team, he didn't want them to know at the moment either.

"I don't know quite how to say this, doc, but…there's only thirty-two life signs on the LSD."

Beckett didn't respond; his gaze at the major remained unchanged. Lorne tilted his chin and peered at the doctor, wondering if he had even heard what he had said.

"Doc?"

Beckett blinked several times, clearing his throat and glanced back at the team just beyond them for a long moment. As he turned back towards Lorne, his gaze passed over the group of natives watching them in silence.

"Thirty-two?" Beckett nodded for a long while, processing the information. He was sick to his stomach but his face showed nothing of his distress. He locked eyes with Lorne. "Can we fit them all in the Jumpers?"

Lorne scanned the groups huddled upon the beach and took a deep breath. The heat was unbearable and there was a thin layer of haze in the air. A red tinge began to paint the scene as the sun drooped lower in the sky.

"I don't think so, doc." His face was grim.

Beckett nodded once.

"They will not go." A soothing female voice called from amid the natives. They parted, quite comically, stumbling over each other to give the disfigured female room to emerge to the forefront. Her long wavy golden hair hung around her face, her eyes sparkling like the ocean itself.

"Risha." Rodney supplied, in a small voice, his eyes never straying from the colonel lying at his feet.

"You can't stay here, love." Beckett shook his head, moving to stand before the woman. He nearly stumbled backward as her gaze seemed to pierce his soul.

"Death is no stranger. We do not fear it." Risha acknowledged. She looked to Sheppard, then, her visage dimming. "Time you have not. You must go."

"She's right, doc. I think the colonel is getting worse." The marine who had been assisting Sheppard's breathing called out. Beckett rushed over to find Sheppard's face reddened, his eyes pinched tight in pain.

"Colonel? Can you hear me? Tell me what hurts." Beckett demanded. Sheppard remained unresponsive to his calls and his limbs began to wriggle around in discomfort.

"Carson?" Teyla prompted. She knelt on the other side of the colonel.

Beckett proceeded to listen to Sheppard's heart through his stethoscope. In the tense atmosphere, all eyes were upon the doctor and his patient.

"Ach, don't do this to me now, Sheppard!" Beckett exclaimed finally. "I think he's having an M.I. We have to leave. Now!"

In the blur of a minute, they had Sheppard loaded onto one of the two remaining Jumpers. Following close behind were Teyla and Rodney, supporting Ronon between them.

"Myocardial Infarction…heart attack." Rodney supplied in a dismal voice when Teyla and Ronon looked to him in need of clarification. He paused momentarily, looking back at Risha before sorrow shrouded his eyes and he turned back to his teammates.

"Wait, we can't just leave them behind." A marine bellowed as Lorne turned to enter into one of the Jumpers. The entourage of marines paused, glancing back at the natives staring in their direction. From the blank expressions, it appeared none of the natives were coherent enough to realize their fate was at hand.

"It's their choice, not ours." Lorne barked back. In truth, he couldn't stomach the decision to leave the natives behind. There were so few of them, surely they could be rescued: if they could wait until they returned, maybe…. But he knew they wouldn't leave. The look in Risha's eyes had been enough to sell him on the decision.

The Lanteans looked upon the natives one last time as the back hatches of both Jumpers simultaneously began to raise. Fifteen faces stared back, eyes blinking owlishly. For the most part, they did not realize their dismal fate. The remaining natives had lost much of their sanity long ago.

Risha stood amongst them, head bowed in sorrow. The remaining Heracs would not die naturally, she knew. It was only a matter of time before they turned on each other, through no fault but that of the poison that had stolen their lives so long ago. Soon, she would join her brother.

The Jumpers maneuvered slowly at first, flying side by side while gaining altitude before taking a wide trajectory upwards to circle the continent before heading to outer space.

The sight out of the cockpit was beyond words. Something more sinister than fire had painted the landscape black. Heavy smoke lingered but much of the land was already revealed. The scars of the tragedy tolled upon the land were devastatingly extensive.

The copilot of one of the Jumpers dialed in Atlantis' address and established a connection. Moments later, the IDC was sent. It was time to go home.

-------o-------

_It began with a seed. The seed flourished, sprouting many new stems and leaves. Upon the stems, flowers budded and blossomed. New seeds developed. Eventually those seeds took flight. They scattered. More seeds nestled into fertile ground. More stems and leaves grew. This happened again and again. It became a continuous cycle that would cease only should the universe itself die._

--o—

Whirling flames spiraled up into the night sky, screaming to the heavens above. Winds raged and howled. Screams accompanied the cacophony.

Not a tree was left unscathed. Not a stone left without a coat of ash. Life on the continent was quickly fading.

The madness of flame quieted upon the first hues of light appearing at the horizon upon the sea.

Only one life remained.

--o--

_This is how we came to be. We were born from such a seed. We knew of no other seeds. Only us. Isolated. _

_Then they found us. The Ancients, they called themselves. They were impressed by our strength and agility, our adaptation, our resourcefulness. _

_They had gifted this life to us. Planted the seed. In turn, we offered ourselves to their will. It was a right, an honor. The Ancients were the sun, the wind, the ground, and the sea. They were everything we wished to be._

--o—

The gentle waves rolled across the surface of the serene waters. The air was still save for a whisper of a breeze. The horizon was a soft band of color, nearly merging white into the far reaches of the ocean. Not a single wisp of cloud inhabited the sky. The waters calmly lapped onto a gray bank of sand. Only small crustaceans rolled with the water flowing onto shore. The silver rim of a large moon peered from above, accompanied halfway across the sky by a smaller sliver of a second moon. The third moon had already sank below the swallowing depths of the ocean.

Dawn was fast approaching.

The peace of this day soothed the single soul standing at the shore. Her tattered clothes, nearly the color of her papery white skin, gently flittered across her body in the lift of a breeze. Her crystal eyes mirrored that of the ocean she stared longingly into.

--o--

_Our home was unique to them. Just as we were. The sand, the rock. These things became a new form. Something that encased the stars and darkness from the night. The Ancients taught us the skill. We created their source. _

_In turn, we were gifted many things. Most we could not use at first. The Ancients blessed these things. A simple touch. Only then could we use them. _

_Some of the source was created on land. The rest, in the night sky. We traveled to the night sky many times. But never further. We were afraid._

_A dome was built. In this dome, Ancients and Heracs discussed many things. Twinkling stars often graced the dome. Maps. Places we had never known. The Ancients knew them all. _

--o—

Inhaling deeply, allowing the salty air to fill her lungs, she stole a step forward into the cool water. The level of water rose as another wave rolled onto shore, then gently, almost tickling her skin in its haste, it retreated.

--o--

_The Ancients and Heracs flourished. Time strengthened. Then, then something unexpected._

_The Ancients no longer came. _

_We waited and waited. _

_And waited._

_Death came in shrouds. Sometimes it was disease. Other times the sky. Still others, war. _

_The Ancients were responsible. In turn, we destroyed their gifts. Everything. We cleansed ourselves of their malice. _

_The sun, the sea, the wind, and the ground. They did not abandon us. So we did not abandon them._

--o—

She took another step, the water rising to her ankles and the coolness just as quickly retreated. Then another step, the water rising nearly to her knees. She pushed onward into the cooler depths of the water, her eyes casting only for a moment through the crystal clear surface to observe the colorful stones beneath her bare toes. She lifted her chin in resolution, her eyes skimming the surface as she drew deeper. The rolling currents pushed her body ever so gently, almost lulling her as she continued forward.

Peaceful.

--o--

_Yet more betrayal awaited us. _

_Poison. Born of the trees and the ground and the berries. And later: the water. Discovery led to misuse. Our leaders grew greedy. Four we became, instead of one. Trials performed. The poison needed to be perfect. Death plagued us again. Murder. Suicide. None by mistake._

_The Ancients never returned. A seed of another kind did. It did not flourish here. And neither could we. No longer._

_It ended with death._

--o--

She calmly took her last breath.

The water claimed her then, rolling smoothly over her flowing golden hair.

And just as quickly, her existence was erased from the short memory of the sea.

-------o-------

A single Wraith Hive Ship arrived from hyperspace above the planet of Herac. Their findings were shocking: there were no life signs, not a single one. Frustrated and hungered, they left, taking the address of this planet off their database permanently. They had always known the people of Herac were poisoned, but the promise of fresh blood from the newly sent signal not long ago had been too tantalizing to pass up. They did not panic, however. The universe was a large and fruitful place.

Food was aplenty.

-------tbc-------


	16. Empty Handed

CHAPTER 15: Empty-handed

Silence.

That was what greeted Elizabeth as she entered the infirmary: quite the contrast to the rush of two Jumpers re-emerging through the Stargate several hours earlier. Upon entering the Jumper Bay, Elizabeth was relieved to find all those under her watch accounted for, even if they were short one lost Jumper.

In the chaos of their return, Elizabeth found herself at a loss for words. Every inch of them was covered in black soot and they all stumbled willingly toward the infirmary without a word. Sheppard was the worse for wear as he was lying unconscious on a gurney, air being pumped into his lungs and Beckett rubbing his sternum for a hopeful response. Standing with mouth agape, Elizabeth found herself standing alone in mere minutes of their return.

Still with no answers, but a satisfaction settling her nerves, Elizabeth searched for Carson to get the full report. Except Carson was sitting on the edge of a gurney himself, eyes downcast, hands wringing over one another. Alarm seized her heart and she rushed forward to stand before him.

"Carson? Carson, are you all right?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He nearly jumped at her touch, his deep blue eyes rising to meet her own. There was something unsettling in those eyes…like detachment and shock.

"I couldn't save them all." He said and then silence once again settled between them.

Blinking hard, Elizabeth glanced around the infirmary, noticing for the first time that every bed was occupied. Some of the occupants were awake and coughing, others had succumbed to their exhaustion, and still others just sat there, staring into a void, just as Carson was.

"Carson…what happened on that planet? How is John?" She prodded gently. Carson continued to look down at the floor and took a few moments before responding. His voice was raw.

"The Colonel's gonna make it, God willing. Dr. Biro took over when my hands wouldn't stop shaking."

Carson paused for another long moment and Elizabeth found herself getting antsy. She _had_ to know what had happened. Carson brought his gaze back to her, eyes shimmering.

"There's nothing left. They destroyed themselves. Ten thousand years of misunderstanding and heartache manifested itself into a grudge. Elizabeth: there was nothing we could do but get ourselves out of there before we became victims to their turmoil. Men. Women. Children. All of them gone."

Carson spoke no more. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he lowered his gaze once again, fixated upon the floor. Elizabeth took a step backwards and glanced around the room at all the shocked faces. They avoided her inquisitive gaze.

This was a thing of her nightmares, not reality.

She reached out and placed a comforting hand upon Carson's arm. He placed his own over hers in a thankful gesture, the smallest of smiles gracing his lips. His eyes met Elizabeth's once more.

"He's broken, Elizabeth, and I don't know how to fix him. I don't know if anyone can." Carson told her, his throat tightening with sadness. The passion this man possessed for those he cared for was unmatched by most doctors in any galaxy. He knew Elizabeth would try to do all that was in her power to make things right again, not just for John, for all of them. She could see that in his eyes and so much more. Undying trust.

She gave him a few pats and mustered a slightly playful smile.

"That's what Rodney's for, remember? Resident genius, or so he claims?"

Carson chuckled lightly and returned the smile in full.

"Aye."

-------o-------

He couldn't breathe.

Sheppard clutched at his throat, gasping in agony as a fiery sensation swept through his veins. He rocked from side to side, his body curling up against the pain. He was vaguely aware of Ronon prying his hands away to assess the damage. He did not like the look of panic is the usually stoic man's eyes. He felt a rough, calloused hand upon his neck applying pressure to an apparent wound there. Funny he could not remember how he had become injured in the first place.

Sheppard pounded his fists into the ground beside him, lying flat and allowing his legs to stretch out. The noises around him seemed amplified, he could hear every rustle of leaves, every bird flapping its wings, bubbling water, and heavy breathing...so heavy it hurt his ears. His vision blurred, everything simplified into hazy shapes of light and dark.

A metallic taste assaulted his tongue and he swallowed convulsively, the air coming to his lungs simply not satisfying the need. He knew he was in trouble, and he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

Ronon was distracted, looking away at something nearby. Sheppard tried to focus unwilling eyes but the jungle was getting dark...too dark. Yet wasn't even midday. His heart pounded loudly in his ears and he feared whatever threat was upon them would hear it and crush it. His fear came true and the last breath was stolen from him before he even had the opportunity to draw it in.

--o—

The medical team tried to subdue the thrashing colonel. His eyes were open wide, clouded over in delirium. His brief shouts were tinged in agony. He gasped for air, despite the constant feed of oxygen through a mask secured upon his face.

Carson injected the sedative before the colonel could do further damage to himself or to the others holding him down.

Just as quickly as it had started, Sheppard quieted down and succumbed to sedation.

A collective sigh of relief was exhaled.

-------o-------

Rodney lay in his bed, relishing in the silence of the late night infirmary. Ronon rested in slumber to his right, Sheppard under sedation to his left. Teyla lay curled up in a ball upon the bed to the other side of Ronon. Her eyes were open, but she did not meet his gaze. The Athosian appeared lost in thought. She looked so fragile: Rodney feared she would break from nothing more than a light touch.

Scarred. They were all scarred. The horrors they had witnessed could never be erased from their minds.

He found his mind meandering back to Risha. Was she still alive? The knowledge that woman possessed rivaled his own. He admired her for it, respected her. Even during his short time with her, he had developed a deep-rooted connection. He only wished he could have spent more time with her to unravel her secrets; however he knew they would have remained buried. Sorrow clutched at his heart. Risha had deserved so much more.

Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, Rodney cleared his thoughts of Risha. He was a stubborn man. Time was better spent thinking of oneself, not others!

Yet, his mind continued to drift away from his own wellbeing.

Sheppard.

He was at a loss with the colonel's actions on Herac. He had never seen such a ravenous, chilling look in his friend's eyes before. It unsettled him to the point that it was all he could see when he closed his eyes. What had happened to transform such a man of strength and honor? Where had it all gone so horribly wrong?

The poison. That was all he had to blame. Yet the weight of blame towards such a thing felt weak at best.

He tried to find reason: they had all just been trying to survive. Teyla, Ronon, Sheppard, himself, the Heracs... Unfortunately survival of the fittest ended here in the infirmary. There was no one left.

They had come to Herac in faith of ZedPMs, Coffee, and Chocolate. They came away empty-handed.

-------o-------

Dr. Weir read over the last line of the report on the blaring white screen before her. Major Lorne had submitted it over an hour ago and she had now read it a total of five times. It couldn't be right.

…_in conclusion, the remaining people of Herac refused sanctuary. Fifteen in all._

Fifteen?

She wondered whether to disturb the major at such a late hour, but eventually concluded to wait until morning. She thought back to the day before yesterday, when she, Radek, and Rodney had discovered Herac in the Ancient database.

The population was listed at one million. Surely it couldn't have dwindled that severely over the past ten thousand years. And all evidence of technology had been erased from existence, as Lorne had quoted Rodney in the report. She shook her head, a headache beginning to send spikes of pain wrapping around her overworked brain. How was all this possible?

She recalled the looks upon the faces of all those who emptied so quickly out of the two Jumpers that returned. She couldn't shake it from her mind, in fact. Shell-shocked was the only thing to describe what she saw.

They were broken in some way. She didn't even know how to begin mending them all.

When she had later conferred with Dr. Beckett on the conditions of those confined to the infirmary, she got nothing more than an overwhelming sense of sorrow. She wanted to tell them all that it would be okay. Time heals all wounds (what a lie). But she knew her words would offer little to ease their pain.

The clock read two thirty-five. The headache was beginning to throb in her temples. Her eyes felt grimy and her body begged for rest. She pushed away from the desk and stood, stretching a few of the aches out of her body. Then, she headed down to the infirmary.

--o—

Elizabeth discovered that she wasn't the only one suffering insomnia on Atlantis. Nearly everyone in the infirmary was awake, though one couldn't tell from the deafening silence of the place. Only Ronon and Sheppard slept, and that was more through the power of drugs and exhaustion than anything else.

She found Carson puzzling over lab results in his office. His hair was up on end, his face haggard. Several empty Styrofoam cups lay strewn across the floor by his feet, remnants of coffee staining the inner rims.

She rapped her knuckles gently on the frame of the door. Startled, Carson let out a strangled noise and nearly flipped over in his chair. Papers flew into the air and he scrambled to reorganize them. Elizabeth knelt down to assist.

"Oh God, Carson, I'm so sorry."

His eyes were red from lack of sleep, and maybe something else. That haunted glaze hadn't left his eyes either. Carson gave her a quick smile, picked up the remainder of the papers and sat back in his chair as Elizabeth took a seat on the couch.

"I'm sorry, love. I was distracted." Carson replied hastily, as he rummaged through the papers to find the one he had been studying.

"Carson." Elizabeth blurted. The tone of her voice caused the doctor to freeze and meet her eyes. "How do we fix this?'

Physically deflating, Carson looked down, running a hand through his already messed hair. He blew out a breath and regained eye contact with Elizabeth. She didn't like what she saw.

Defeat.

"I don't know if we can." Came the answer.

Elizabeth shook her head.

"No, Carson. I won't accept that." She paused, studying the doctor's weary face. Her voice began to tremble as she continued. "Whatever happened on Herac…it's changed all of you. The passion, the fire that kept us all going despite everything we've been through these past three years? That's gone now Carson. And I want it back."

Carson swallowed harshly.

"I was barely there two hours and I can't sleep, I can't eat…all I see when I close my eyes are burned remains and helpless faces. I saw Sheppard kill a man with his bare hands: there was no remorse. The lad was out of his mind. And from what these labs are telling me, he was pumped up with adrenaline levels so high it should have killed him. That it nearly did but by the grace of God, he pulled through. And his team…they've not been spared either. The buggers should all thank their lucky stars that they're alive. They witnessed a horrible tragedy and they had no power to stop any of it. You can't fix that, Elizabeth. You just can't."

Tears had begun to well at the corners of Beckett's eyes and he made no move to hide the fact. Elizabeth just stared at him. There was nothing she could say. Nothing at all.

She stood up, paused as if to say something and looked to Carson once more, then turned and left his office. Her legs carried her further until she found herself standing before Sheppard's bed. She brought her arms up and hugged herself against the chill that had nothing to do with temperature.

She saw beyond the tubes and the sickly complexion. What she saw was suffering. Even in his sedated state, John Sheppard was in pain.

Sighing, Elizabeth could hold it in no longer. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her shoulders shook. Quiet sobs escaped her lips.

A hand drew her close and then an arm wrapped around her shoulders. Through the tears, she saw who had come to comfort her and allowed a small smile to interrupt the sobs.

"It'll be okay, love. We'll get through this."

-------tbc-------


	17. Ashes & Fading Memories

CHAPTER 16: Ashes & Fading Memories

The one thing Sheppard liked about the infirmary on Atlantis was that there were no boring ceiling tiles. This wasn't the Milky Way after all. The architects of this majestic city had been a tad bit more creative to say the least. Towering columns of bubbling water stretched up into a soothing dance of arcs and lines similar to that of the ceiling of a cathedral. Dark shadows played across the arches accompanied by a few shimmers of light dancing across them like that of a soothing serenade.

It was mesmerizing. He had been staring at the play of light and shadow for over an hour. What he hadn't realized was that there were people standing at his bedside, frantically trying to get him to respond to them.

A sinking sensation told him that it hadn't all been a dream. The trip to Herac had indeed happened. His spiral into darkness had happened. From what little he could recall, he knew there could be no redemption for what he had done. He hadn't even expected to survive. How disappointed he was to have woken and found that death had cowardly retreated.

The voices of his friends filtered in lazily. He found that even if he wanted to respond, he really didn't have much to say.

"Colonel Sheppard, please." Elizabeth's pleading voice broke through the fog that was settlled on his mind. "What does this mean, Carson?"

"I don't know, lass. It could be any number of things. Shock, a side affect from the poison, a state of catatonia. Now he's only just woken, so maybe we should give him some time to…."

Another voice cut him off. It was high-pitched and angry.

"No! Not after what he's done. We can't allow him to selfishly tune out the rest of us after all that's happened." A ruffle of clothing and Sheppard sensed a presence leaning in on him. McKay's pale face disrupted his view of the light show. "Do you hear me Sheppard? Snap out of it, damn it! You're not _allowed_ to be catatonic!!!"

"Calm down, McKay." Ronon's soft grumble could be heard from nearby.

"No, I…." Someone must have physically stopped the scientist from his building rampage as he was pulled from Sheppard's view and replaced by the compassionate but worried face of Teyla. She ran a soothing hand through his hair…god even his hair ached…and smiled at him.

"Colonel Sheppard. We wish for you to speak to us. Please. We only wish to make sure that you are…as well as can be expected." Teyla was about to say "all right", when she realized that at the moment, that wasn't really possible for any one of them.

Sheppard swore he could almost hear the waves of the ocean crashing against Atlantis far below them. The shadows grew, the lights dimmed. He had barely noticed but time had passed and he was now alone. Or so he thought.

Clattering and muttering met his ears: McKay. Damn the man. He couldn't be separated from his precious laptop, could he? It angered Sheppard, but he was so weak, so depressed, there was nothing he could even muster to do about it.

His eyes were dry. Had they really been open all that time? He tried to blink, tried to swallow against a horribly dry throat, but he couldn't seem to get his body to respond. But somehow, panic did not come. He felt rather peaceful like this.

He drifted in this malaise for a long time.

-------o-------

Morning dawned on Atlantis. The air was still as if waiting for permission to move. It was quiet, too quiet.

Carson was writing down some notes to update Sheppard's chart, standing at the end of his bed. The doctor was beyond exhausted. He kept making mistakes in his notations, scribbling them out in frustration. He exhaled loudly, rubbing over his left eyebrow before placing the chart back in its appropriate place. He leaned forward, placing hands upon the railing of Sheppard's bed and stared at the sleeping man.

The colonel had just about gone into cardiac arrest on the Jumper but miraculously, his vitals stabilized. In turn, he had become unresponsive. Later in the evening of the day before, Sheppard had opened his eyes. There was nothing more than that. He was still unresponsive. Now the man was in a deep slumber once again. It wasn't like he was going to bounce back after…well, it just wasn't going to happen overnight anyway.

Thinking back to the horrors they witnessed on the planet, Carson shuddered. He could only surmise that those who had been poisoned would have eventually succumbed to heart failure or brain aneurisms due to withdrawal, or worse, by each other's hand. The levels of adrenaline found in Sheppard's blood was alarming: it was a miracle the man was still alive.

"Dr. Beckett?" A soft voice came from behind him.

Startled, he turned to find Teyla looking at him through tired eyes, a smile of greeting on her face. She glanced at Sheppard as she came to stand beside the doctor and then looked back to Carson.

"Sorry, love, didn't hear you approach." Carson said in a quiet voice.

"How is he?" She wasn't expecting any miracles, but she was forever the optimist. Carson admired her for it, knowing the history she had survived.

"Holding his own."

"He is strong." Teyla nodded. They remained in silence for a few minutes.

"Teyla, are you all right?" Carson hesitated to ask, as he knew the answer already.

Teyla looked down with another smile before regaining eye contact. There was sorrow in her eyes that did not quite reach her lips. She was strong, too.

"In time I will be." She said, studying his face. "And so will you. And Ronon, and Rodney, and even Colonel Sheppard. We will recover."

"How can you be so sure?" Carson hadn't seen anything compared to what Teyla had witnessed in a lifetime, but what he _had_ seen would haunt him until death.

"It is what we do." Teyla replied simply. She patted him on the arm and then left him alone once more.

"Aye. You hear that Colonel? You'll be just fine." Carson patted a hand on Sheppard's bruised and swollen hand. He smiled briefly and retreated back to his office.

It was just too quiet.

-------o-------

"His motor functions have been affected, hence why he can't respond to us. The basic qualities of the poison are quite similar to caffeine, oddly enough. We analyzed it and found that the traces remaining in his system were the equivalent to something like consuming one hundred and forty cups of coffee all at once. The half-life on that alone is equivalent to four days for his body to metabolize all of it. Side affects can include everything from delirium, which we've seen already, to seizures, to heart palpitations…the list goes on." There was a brief pause. "He's a mess."

Beckett.

"Shit."

_Smirk._ Ronon.

"Ronon, I do believe you've been spending too much time with the marines." Came a chuckle from the doctor.

"I know worse words than that, doc, and most in languages you've never heard of." Came the dry response.

It took him until now to realize his eyes had been open during their entire conversation. However, Sheppard found to his detriment that his body seemed to be ignoring him at the moment. He couldn't move a muscle.

Brief flashes of another time and place, dark and sinister, interrupted his eavesdropping. Intense heat and flame. Embers dancing on the wind. Women. Children. Screaming and fleeing but to no avail. The face of death. Pain. Darkness.

He willed it all to go away. He was literally trapped in a body that refused to move under his command. There was nothing he could do but be subjected to haunted memories, even if they were the briefest of flashbacks. He would never fully recover all the time he spent on that planet. For that, he would be forever grateful.

His mind shifted back to observing his surroundings. Carson and Ronon had gone. He was alone. It was oddly comforting.

He was a monster, after all. And just who would want to be in the company of a monster?

-------o-------

Huddled into a ball on the couch in her quarters, Elizabeth tried to make sense of things. She hadn't even been on the mission, yet everything she'd gathered after their return was enough to have her doubting her power of command.

How could they all have been so naïve to think this planet was the answer to all their problems? Had they really become so blind by the pressing need for the power a fully functioning ZPM or two promised them?

She couldn't shake the haunted looks of those who had returned. Sheppard's team barely spoke to her, or each other for that matter. They spoke nothing of Sheppard's actions, of which she had learned little through Major Lorne. Whatever had transpired on that planet was kept locked away from her.

Maybe it was better that way.

-------tbc--------

_I'm sorry, but it's always been a pet peeve of mine to read when Shep wakes up to ceiling tiles. I mean, come on, do you really think the Ancients would've put something so horribly mundane in their beautiful city?!_


	18. Even Monsters are flawed

_As a treat: a recovery chapter (a teensy bit inspired by Splitbeak, thank you). I realized I had done what TPTB do and had skipped ahead a month or two and completely ignored the healing part! So, here's a bonus chapter. There'll be one more after this, to conclude the fic. Thank you for the reviews, as always. :)  
_

CHAPTER 17: Even Monsters are flawed

It was the one time when he was little that his father had been comforting. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he'd been three at the time and his mother had just left them.

Monsters.

He'd seen them in the shadows. They were pressing in on him. Suffocating him. His imagination ran wild. Saw things that were never really there.

And then his father was there. Embracing him in a full bear hug, tight enough for him to squirm his face around so he could find air to breathe. His father was shuddering. There was no more hint than that, but John realized a long time later, that his father had been crying.

This man had been capable of loving, once upon a time. He hadn't always been a monster, himself.

And this is how John had developed the compassion that drove him to do things like risking his own life to save another.

If only he could see that he hadn't become a monster, just like his father. If only he could remember who he used to be. Yet that was where the problem lay: who he _used_ to be. The mission to Herac had changed him.

Now? Now he had no idea who he was.

-------o-------

When you don't have the power to close your own eyes, they dry out. Nurses had to constantly flush Sheppard's eyes with saline solution to keep them saturated enough that no problems arose. Sheppard was never aware of any of this, nor the other daily duties the nurses preformed on a comatose body. It was better that way.

Until today.

Of all the times to finally become fully aware of his surroundings, Sheppard had to do it when a nurse was hovering inches over his face. He had blinked and focused on her. It sent both of them nearly crashing to the floor in shock.

The nurse screamed, unintentionally of course. Sheppard yelled, in a manly fashion no doubt, and fought the instinct to flee. Instant realization told him that his body was connected in every way possible to machines and the bed he lay in. One inch in any direction would have him in serious trouble.

Moments later another face was hovering over his and he nearly yelled again in surprise. The concerned blues of Beckett's eyes peered into his before fingers were prying open one lid to shine a migraine-inducing white light into his pupil. The motion was repeated on his other eye, leaving him blinking away the vestiges of white morphing into red.

It took another moment or two for Sheppard to realize Beckett was talking to him. Being catatonic tended to make you a little slow on the uptake.

"…you hear me? Sheppard?" Beckett shook his shoulder his brow furrowed with worry.

"Doc?" He responded in a cracked voice. Eyes weren't the only things to dry up in such a state.

Relief smoothed out Beckett's face and he nodded.

"Aye. Take it easy, lad. You've had a tough time of it." Beckett squeezed his shoulder reassuringly.

Sheppard took note of the small notion, realizing how he would always cringe at such display of affection. At this very moment it was the one thing that kept him grounded and it solidified the fact that he was finally back. In response, he smiled, closing his eyes for a very long time.

Unfortunately, flashes of bad things plagued his memory when he should have simply relaxed and taken comfort in being back in the company of those he cared most about. These were things that weren't going to go away in the blink of an eye. With this realization, his stomach plummeted, and so did his elation at finding himself back in the land of consciousness.

"Colonel?" Beckett's voice called in the darkness.

Monsters loved the dark. And Sheppard intended to stay there.

"John?" Beckett's voice was tinged in worry by now. That and determination. Sheppard had finally woken and responded to him: the good doctor wasn't about to gloss over the fact. A hand shook his shoulder once more.

"Go away." John mumbled tiredly.

"No." Came the sharp reply.

That got him to open his eyes. He stared at Beckett and Beckett stared at him. It was a Mexican Stand-off. They both blinked at the same time and Sheppard looked away.

"Come on lad, you can't hide forever."

Sheppard glared back at the doctor, his upper lip curling in true monster fashion.

"Hiding from what? I _don't_ hide." Sheppard spat.

Beckett leaned back, frowning at the sudden shift in mood of the colonel. That's when Sheppard's arm began to twitch. The twitching rapidly changed to seizing and Sheppard blacked out.

-------o-------

The next time the monster awoke, he was in a world of pain, throwing up bile onto a sterile gray floor, wishing to the powers that be that life would just leave him alone. Death never sounded so sweet when your entire body was rejecting you.

Someone was holding his hand, and another was soothing his brow. Their touch should have been comforting. But his state of mind would not allow it.

His heart was dancing to an off tune, his body was shaking, and he couldn't seem to recall how he had gotten to such a sour state. He pleaded for the end.

Alas, not even death would comfort him.

-------o-------

"…not really catatonia, as I discussed with Ronon. The poison was so concentrated it in a sense paralyzed his motor functions. Now, he has only just metabolized the last of the poison, blood tests confirmed it. The seizure was just another in a long list of complications the colonel's dealing with. The poor lad's going to be in for a rough couple of days until his brain chemistry stabilizes. He may experience mood swings, perhaps even violent behavior, but you have to be patient and be there for him. I know you all suffered a great deal, believe me. All I ask is that you set that aside if you can, and let the colonel know that you're here. That you're his team and you will not abandon him. He needs you even if he doesn't think he does."

The speech was followed by a long silence. Sheppard wanted to open his eyes, but exhaustion kept them sealed. Was his team there? Where had they been all this time? Were they okay?

"You're in the company of monsters, colonel." A voice whispered in his ear. It spooked him, and his heart rate quickened. Somewhere in the distance, a racing beeping noise announced his distress to the rest of the world.

That voice. His father. A shiver spread across his body. No…not a shiver. A tremor that triggered yet another seizure. Darkness once again cloaked the monster and he smiled.

-------o-------

It took another day of his body's instability to lead to a healthy sleep that lasted over thirty-two hours. When he next awoke, he was more coherent than he had been in a very long time.

A comfort that had nothing to do with darkness swept over him. He could hear the normal chatter of his team surrounding him, discussing arbitrary things. Hands were resting upon his, soothing him.

He was home.

Opening his eyes to face the present was the hardest thing he ever had to do.

He saw his teammates. The facades they had constructed for his sake were cracked and flawed. He could see the pain, the sorrow. They were just as broken as he. Seeing this was enough for Sheppard to feel an overwhelming need to protect them. They didn't deserve this. Tears began to leak from his eyes and embarrassingly enough he couldn't stop them.

Teyla drew him into a hug. Rodney simply stared, his mouth in a thin line, chin trembling. Ronon clenched his jaw and locked eyes with Sheppard.

"It's over, John. It's over." Teyla mumbled into his shoulder.

And then he knew it was.

-------tbc-------


	19. Good Days and Bad Days

CHAPTER 18: Good Days and Bad Days

How does one move on from tragedy?

One step in front of the other? One day at a time? Could it really be that simple?

Those who had been to the planet of Herac alone knew the answer. Among the rest of the expedition members, the word itself had become vain: anyone who spoke it were instantly hushed and deterred from further conversation.

Elizabeth found herself losing the connection she prided in having with the expedition members. Guilt and doubt plagued her. If only they hadn't discovered the planet in the database, if only they had dug a little deeper and did their homework, if only….

If only.

No one from Atlantis had been killed. That should have been a consolation of some kind. But on the other hand, an entire civilization was gone.

Did her team step into an already doomed situation or did they initiate it? She wanted to believe the former, but something tugged at her mind. Something in the report she received from Teyla, the only one on the team, in fact, to bother writing one. The Heracs had mistaken them for the Ancients. Mistaken identity aside, these people possessed a deep hatred for the Ancients. There was bitterness there. Why?

No, she finally decided. Whatever had transgressed in the last ten thousand years since the Ancients left the Pegasus Galaxy had doomed the Heracs. Not her team. It had simply been the matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not even she could have prevented that.

And so Elizabeth made her peace. It was time for her team to do so, as well.

-------o-------

Sheppard had polished his boots to a nice shine.

The problem was, they had been shining about an hour ago, but now the boots had become abraded by his constant polishing. He just couldn't seem to get the dirt off.

Anger was just below steaming in his blood and he was doing everything in his power to simmer it before things got worse.

From time to time during his slow recovery, he caught glimpses, or sensations, of his time separated from his team on Herac. He knew by instinct more than fact that he had done many things against his very nature. It disturbed him to the core but there was little to be done for it. He had transformed into an animal in that heightened state. He had reacted on instinct.

He had simply been trying to survive.

Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. Not being able to remember was almost as upsetting as the anger that seemed to be ever present upon really waking in the infirmary.

His team had noticed. They weren't exactly in top form after their experiences on the planet either. But at least they seemed to have come to terms with it, in whatever way they could.

But not Sheppard, no, he simply kept things boiling on the inside with a nice cool facade on the outside. He refused downright to deal with the emotions swirling within him. Carson had started to prod and Elizabeth had mentioned a thing or two about taking some time to relax, but he simply shrugged them off and isolated himself from the rest of Atlantis. After all, he selfishly surmised, none of_ them_ had gone through what he had. From the little he could recall, he had killed – not out of defense, but heated rage.

He rubbed vigorously at his boots for another fifteen minutes before he could take it no longer. He threw them into the wall opposite him. With a satisfying crash, they bounced off, struck his guitar and nightstand, and sent everything down into a pile of disheveled personal effects.

-------o-------

Atlantis had become too claustrophobic for him. He had to get out. Which was why Rodney found himself standing on the Eastern Pier this early in the morning, watching the early light sparkle upon rippling waves as far as the eye could see.

It took him a moment to notice a presence just over his shoulder. He turned, spooked, to find Sheppard gazing over the waters.

"Gees…Sheppard! You could have given me a heart attack!" He spat, one hand splayed across his heart.

"Sorry."

There was no witty comeback. Rodney missed that. He silently observed the colonel as he stood, arms crossed, one hand tucked close to his rib cage. Sheppard had been doing that a lot lately, trying to hide the residual hand tremors. The colonel had not walked away from this mess unscathed in any way.

The expression on his face was quite the opposite of the serenity they were witnessing. There was distress, hurt, and an anger that would not abate.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Rodney jutted his chin out. He was determined to make this a good day…for all of them.

Sheppard remained quiet.

"You know, I presumed we'd never get to see such wonderful sunrises and sunsets like this once we left Earth. I fully believed we'd be stuck in the bowels of some space vessel or worse, some backwater planet with no technology for me to…."

"Rodney!" Sheppard snapped just as Rodney realized what he was saying, or rather, reminding them of. The anger in his eyes was palpable and had Rodney avoiding eye contact completely.

Sheppard took a deep breath and tried to relax by unfolding his arms and allowing them to hang loosely at his sides. Tremors be damned.

"Let's just…watch the sunrise, shall we?" Came the defeated apology, if one could call it that.

"Sure." Rodney muttered. He glanced sideways at his friend. He could see the internal struggle on the man's face. Sheppard was barely holding his own, but by God, he was doing it. Sorrow tugged at Rodney's heart and he thought once again of Risha. The bravery and the strength of that woman had left a mark on Rodney. He was stronger because of it.

That is how Teyla and Ronon found their two teammates: standing in mutual silence but nonetheless appreciating each other's company. They came to stand on either side of the two men and turned to the sea.

Sparkles danced upon blue below golden rays. A new day was full of promise. And that was enough for them.

-------o-------

Sheppard found he was enjoying more and more of the salty breeze of the ocean these days, perched either on a balcony or a pier to clear his mind. On this day, it was a balcony situated just off the main quarters. The hiss of a door opening and closing announced someone interrupting his silence.

He turned slightly to see Elizabeth smile and come over to stand beside him. She crossed her arms to gaze out at the sea and then she turned her face towards him, seeking eye contact. He continued staring away from her. It was too difficult to allow others to peer into his soul, it was too early.

"Sometimes it's not okay."

Raising an eyebrow, Sheppard frowned at Elizabeth.

"Is that supposed to be comforting?"

"It's survival, John. Acceptance. We do everything we can to cope, to move on, to see the sun rise on a new day." Elizabeth reasoned. She allowed her arms to drop to her sides and came to stand before him, blocking his view.

"What if there's no point?" He said, allowing Elizabeth to see his pain clear in his eyes.

"I'm sorry?" She hadn't seen that coming.

"What's the point of living if it's not going to be okay. If things aren't going to get better? If you can't cope?" He searched her face for the answer, but saw only deep concern. She was at a loss for words.

"Yeah, I didn't think you had an answer for that one."

He turned and made to leave when Elizabeth grabbed his arm. The one that had finally decided to listen to his commands and cease to shake every once in a while. He stared at her until she reluctantly let go. There was a fire in her eyes now; she was just getting warmed up.

"I'll tell you what the point is! To prove everyone wrong. To not give up. To….to find happiness again. It can happen you know. People don't just drop dead on the first bad day they have."

"This isn't just some bad day…" Sheppard stated, raising his voice. Elizabeth shook her head.

"No! Stop it, John. Stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over. You are a human being. Everyone makes mistakes. This was a horrible, horrible situation and I wish to God that things could have been different, but…we're here now, we survived. Yes, a lot of people died. There is nothing we can do about that now." She searched his eyes. He took a deep breath, looking away in emotional pain he didn't want her to witness.

"If they could have just seen beyond the fact that the Ancients left…." His voice died away. Elizabeth placed a hand on his cheek and gently turned him to face her.

"John. You're angry with yourself for everything that happened on Herac. It's in your nature to protect and preserve life. You failed. You failed because you were poisoned and had no control over your actions. It's that simple. Accept it. Maybe even learn from it. Just promise me, _promise me_, you won't become bitter." She let go of her hold on him and headed towards the exit. She paused and turned to face him once more, a knowing smile on her face, her eyes alit with determination.

"Because that would be the ultimate irony in all of this. And then you _would_ be no better than them."

Sheppard found himself speechless.

"Just please, John, please realize that we're trying to help you. We're family, here, all of us. We don't give up on each other."

She left without waiting for a response. Sheppard only smiled in her wake. Damn, if she didn't have a way with words.

-------o-------

Tat-tat-tat.

The report of gunfire echoed from above. Sheppard had his own gun lowered, with Rodney mirroring his actions across from him. Ronon had his blaster trained on a doorway behind them, while Teyla peered into a corridor just to their left.

Another routine mission. How refreshing it was for all of them. Even if they were in the midst of a potentially fatal gunfight with hostile natives on yet another planet.

Backup was already on the way. They had been holed up in this cocoon of an underground research facility for hours, holding their own.

"Sir, we're above your position now. Shall we introduce them to the drones?" Major Lorne's jolly voice called over the radio.

Sheppard shared a smile of relief with his teammates and glanced toward the ceiling.

"Fire away, Lorne, fire away!"

At the same moment, an influx of natives came barreling in, ready to fight the team hand-to-hand. They obliged, proceeding to kick the natives' asses. Turns out these guys weren't as gifted with the self-defense tactics.

Ronon smashed a fist into one man's face and as he turned to look for more hostiles, he caught Sheppard's eye.

For the first time, all was right again. The team was back in tune with each other. They were saving the day. It was the best damn feeling in the universe.

Sheppard gave him a nod and the two charged forward into a cluster of hostiles with eager anticipation. A loud explosion muffled by the layers of ground sheltering them from above met their ears. Debris briefly rained down in thin sheets. The rest of the natives took a hasty retreat. Rodney gave a whoop of celebration and Teyla smiled. Sheppard and Ronon nodded to each other their approval for a fight well done.

Taking time to catch their breath, the team looked at one another through tired eyes. The excitement of a successful mission was ever present in their faces. They were all smiling from ear to ear. And to simply see such giddiness on each of their faces had them all cracking up with laughter. They were doing what they loved most and they had just survived another day. It was an intoxicating feeling to be alive.

There were good days and there were bad days since Herac.

This was a very good day.

------- THE END -------

_Damn am I glad this is finally finished! I don't ever want to write another long fic as long as I live. Can you believe I started this thing in June 2006? Family drama, six kittens, a new apartment, financial distress, depression, and a recovery later, I finally completed what I started. What a struggle, but yay for me!_

_Thank you sooooo much to all of those who stuck with the fic and for those who left feedback. It is much appreciated. And thanks so much to Titan5 for looking things over! In honor of all of you, I have built a virtual chocolate Atlantis. Snap off a spire or bite off a section of a pier. Yummy! _

_I have another fic in the works, believe it or not, tentatively titled Irony, which is based off a challenge I created. You can check out the details of the Whump from a Hat Challenge on my LJ; the address you'll find in my bio here on ffnet._


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